


To Get a Dream of a Life Again

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, AU - Destiny, And a little bit of AU-ish Civil War, Complete, F/M, Post-Avengers, Pre-Thor, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Never before bad such a bargain been struck, and if it had not been her father demanding it Hela would have told him to be on his way before she made him pay for his disrespect. As it was, the fire in his eyes nearly burned her alive as he demanded: "I don't care what the cost. Bring Natalia back to me.""</p><p>AU -- Loki never anticipated meeting someone like Natalia Romanova on Midgard centuries before he unleashed the Chitauri on Manhattan, nor could he have seen that he could have ever felt so passionately for a mortal woman.  So when she is ripped from him before he can fully convey to her how deeply he feels for her he demands Hela to bring Natalia back, however his daughter can manage it.  Her reincarnations will leave her without memories of Loki, or any of her past lives, but for Loki her presence is enough.  So when he sees Natasha Romanov as part of the Avengers team beside his brother he can't help but take her for his own.  He'd waited centuries for this, after all, and he's not about to let her go again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Breath of Life" by Florence + The Machine  
> I don't own any of these lovely characters, they all are property of Marvel.  
> This will also be updated on my tumblr: futurerustfuture-dust.tumblr.com
> 
> So, I took a few liberties with these characters, especially in this chapter where Loki, Thor, and co. are all slightly younger than when we first meet them in Thor, and therefore quite a bit more reckless in some character's cases. I hope the changes are not enough to put you off from this story. As this moves through their lives their personalities will begin to reflect their changes as they age.  
> Also, this is entirely un-beta'd, so any mistakes are my own!  
> Enjoy!

"Brother you cannot be serious. Come with us." Thor's face was split into a wide smile, his hand clapping Loki across the back. "Do not tell me you will leave me to go all by myself to show these non believers the wonders of Midgard." His eyes were bright, glistening as many an Asgardian maiden would liken to a river, or sapphire, or something asinine like that. His boyish enthusiasm was infectious, Loki couldn't deny, but Midgard? They hated him there since he'd brought about, well, what they thought was to be the end of the world. It was simply a bad storm, and it had more to do with Thor than Loki (even if he was the one to wind him up.) So why would he want to go back? They had no love for Loki Odinson there.

"I think I will remain on Asgard, Thor," he asserted as he reclaimed his seat in the library. Here, surrounded by books, he would not find fearful, angry glances, or whispers behind his back. Here he was safe, and safe was where he wanted to be.

"Since when have you been one to back down from mischief?" Thor goaded, sitting opposite his brother and pushing down the book that Loki had propped up between them. "I never knew you to hide from anything, especially not mortals. Do not stay up here, cooped up and bored to death by books, simply because you are afraid--."

"I am not afraid." Loki's vehement response was surprising to himself, but Thor simply smiled, waiting. Wait.  Loki's green eyes turned from the old pages to Thor, unable to believe what was going through his head. Thor, bumbling idiot that he was, had just managed to talk Loki into something. Loki! The word smith, the silver-tongued. Tricked! Goaded into a response until he followed through with what Thor wanted And if he didn't go with his brother now he was doomed to be reminded of it until the end of days.

Damn him.

With a deep, resigned sigh he closed the book, eyes sharp as they looked over Thor. “Does Father know what you want to do?”

Thor’s sheepish smile and his gaze turning elsewhere was enough to answer the question twice over, and Loki rolled his eyes.  Of course not, because when had Thor, the Thunderer, thought to ask permission?  It was easier to ask for forgiveness, of this Loki knew (and often followed), but he could have saved himself a tanning if he’d just bothered to ask.  It was not as if the Allfather would refuse his first-born a thing so long as it was within reason.  And Midgard was certainly within reason; after all the Allfather was a frequent visitor.  

“That’s why you came to me.”  Loki cocked his head to the side, a smile curling the corners of his lips.  “You needed a way to get past Heimdall.  What did you go and do this time to anger the gatekeeper so he would alert Odin of your plans, if he has not done so already?”

“It is not Heimdall who is vexed with me, but Odin. He wishes me to stay and learn politics--to study.”  The blonde groaned, relaxing into the nearest chair, the wood groaning beneath the weight of his muscle and armor.  “I am young yet, and what better way to learn the politics of Midgard than going to visit myself?”  He asked with a boom of a laugh, quick as a clap of thunder.  

“And you think disobeying him will teach the Allfather a lesson?”  

“Of course not!  I just simply wish to escape.  Surely you can understand, brother?” He asked, leaning forward so all four legs of the chair touched back down.  His meaty hand moved to clap Loki on the shoulder once more, and Loki found himself resisting pulling away.  Yes, escaping.  Of course he could remember that.  His teeth gritted together as he cast one more longing look to his books.  What he wouldn’t give to escape this madness that Thor suggested.  He could talk his way out, he supposed, but in the end all it would yield was a piteous stare and reminder that Loki would leave his brothers with the Warriors Three and Sif alone for company.  Not that they were poor friends to keep, but they lacked a certain imagination that the two brothers seemed to share.  It was partially the reason why Loki was hardly welcomed back with open arms.  

“Very well,” Loki groaned.  “I fear I shall live to regret this day.”

“Do not be so sour, my brother!”  Thor was all teeth as he grinned, face bright as it flashed over his features.  “It will be an adventure like we used to have!”  

Yes, the adventures of decades past.  The time spent in the caverns, waiting and praying that his brother would return with good news of the Bifrost site being opened once more, or arriving once more with a red-faced father who would berate them as soon as they were to safety with a verbal lashing so swift and painful Loki wished for physical pain.  The bite of the cold used to be so unfamiliar when they would get stranded, and Loki would be left to conjure what small fire he could with what little magic he had managed to master.  It was hardly enough, and unless Thor left to get firewood it would die before too long, leaving them to shiver and huddle close for warmth.  Now, as Loki bundled himself in a deep green cloak and affixed the vambraces to his arms and the cold would be fleeting and weak.  No winter on Midgard could compare to those of Niflheim, and if Thor and Loki could survive that, well, this should have been a pleasant change.  

Heimdall was no easy task, as Loki knew he would not be.  The gatekeeper had seen ahead of time just what the group was up to, and while Thor butted in from time to time, it was Loki who managed to squeeze them through the watchful golden eyes of the tall man.  His eyes followed Loki as he moved away, trying not to strut as he felt a surge of pride blossom in his belly, smothering the fear at just what such interest could bring.  That would be dealt with on a different day, when he could ponder the dangers of the gatekeeper’s ever watchful eye, and what fun of Loki’s he could end with it.  

The ride to Midgard was pleasant enough.  Quick, Loki supposed, though by the time they reached the planet he was already reconsidering why he’d bothered coming along.  The Warriors Three and Sif had banded around Thor, each yammering about the fires crackling in the gathering dark some five-hundred yards away, whether they would find food or shelter there, and a curious question or two about the time and year of the day which none were able to answer.  None seemed to notice the snow, too thick and nearly up to their knees in some patches, nor just how harshly the wind ripped at their cloaks and hair.  Loki swallowed hard, taking a moment to reconsider the cold, feet following the company as they dragged themselves through the snow with little hesitation, the bee-line already established as they wandered towards the village.  Thor would want tribute, Loki supposed, and he would be allowed time to ponder the strange winter.  Never before had he heard of the snows coming so brutally during this time of the year, nor the chill of the wind being as bone-deep as he felt it now.  What was happening to change the weather so drastically?  

The group made their way into what must have been the town square, Loki silent behind them, listening to the crunch of the snow and the howl of the wind, trying to learn its secrets from these brief moments. He needed to catalogue them, store them to be looked over and considered. At the noise of the newcomers the inhabitants of the town stopped what they were doing, eyes growing wide at the sight of the gods.  The gold and silver of their armor caught the bright light of the fires and threw it back onto the snow as they grew closer, and their fearless blond leader, being as boisterous as ever boomed that he was Thor, Odinson, lightning made real and mighty thunderer of Asgard. He summoned a bolt despite the snowstorm, and the electric beam cracked and fizzled as it met Mjolnir, who had been thrust into the sky. Show off. Loki turned his attention to the crowds reaction.  As expected, they bowed down almost immediately, their attention and respect reverent as Thor grinned down at them.  

“I mean you no harm,” he assured them.  “But the gods demand tribute and worship.  Is there any here who would be willing to provide a feast for us, and some entertainment?  We would be most grateful.”

They practically tripped over themselves to rush to his aid; three men and two women, the latter pair draping themselves off of him like a new cloak.  Behind Thor’s back, Volstagg cracked a joke that made the lady Sif snort, while Fandral stared on with greedy eyes.  Hogun was as expressionless as ever, his dark gaze meeting Loki’s.  They shared a thought, both noticing that the Midgardians were fewer in numbers than they’d last been when they’d visited before, and that their attire seemed oddly bulkier than normal.  Perhaps it was just a more difficult winter, but Loki had not known the planet to suffer such harsh conditions.  The tall, gaunt man came to speak to Loki about it as the golden prince continued to hold court, his booming voice disguising the background conversation.

“We wish to provide you with our favor--.”

“Have you heard of anything such as this happening before?” Hogun asked, voice gruff in Loki’s ear as he leaned over.  Loki gave the faintest shake of his head.

“Never.  Not here.  It feels too unnatural.  Do you sense it as well?”

“Yes.  A sorcerer?”

“Not likely.”  Loki gave a low sigh.  “I like to think I would be able to detect deeper magic if it was put into play.”

“Should you serve us well we will continue to protect your realm--.”

“Then what?” Hogun asked.  “There has not been such a winter on Midgard since--.”

“I know,” Loki cut him off, though the shiver playing havoc with his nerves had nothing to do with the chill settling into the land.  The Frost Giants of Jotunheim had once tried claiming this realm as their own, and the Allfather had fought them back and taken the Casket of Ancient Winters from them.  All knew the tale, all knew the lesson.  So who would have the nerve to attempt it again, Loki wondered as his gaze fell to Thor.

“We should keep it from Thor.  Even the slightest whiff of Jotuns--.”

“He should know if we are to be attacked.” Hogun pulled away to stare at Loki, face hard set with determination.  They did not call him Hogun the Grim for nothing.  “He would be vexed to find that this realm is under attack.”

“If it is.”  Loki soothed.  “We know not what would come of it, and working Thor up will only prove detrimental to discovering the true culprits.  He will stampede in search of what we do not know, and should we be wrong his anger will only alert the villains and allow them time to disappear whilst he goes off chasing after the possibility of Jotuns.  Best to sit and wait for some time.  I do not think--.”

“Loki, Hogun, will you not join us?”  Thor called back, his bright blue gaze turning to the pair, lips frozen in such a wide smile it made Loki’s cheeks hurt to look at it.  

“Of course, brother.”  Loki was all smiles as well, pretending he hadn’t seen the way the villagers had flinched at his name.  As he thought, he was not welcome among them.  “We were simply discussing that perhaps we should go on a hunt to provide the Midgardians with food that they may prepare for us.  It would be the least we could do; surely a demonstration of your prowess would be welcomed by all.”

Hogun’s slight shift in front of Loki was enough to tell him that he had played that well, and Thor’s laughter echoed through the mostly frozen air.  “How thoughtful you are!  See, he bares you no ill will!”  So the collective distaste for the silver-tongued prince had not gone unnoticed.  “We will hunt and provide you with such creatures you shall be well fed for many moons!  Come now,” he beckoned to his friends after he shook off the two women at his side.  They shivered at the cold, now forced to face it without Thor’s heat, and Loki took the moment to gauge just how chilled they must have been.  The cloaks of the Midgardians were not nearly thick enough to prevent the weather from seeping into their bones, and as the company strode through the city square Loki noticed only one pair of blue eyes staring up at them, rather than down.  Her red hair was a torch against the cold, white backdrop, and her attentive gaze made his feet and heart stutter for a moment.  She was shivering so badly he could see it from where he stood, and with sure steps he broke rank and pulled the cloak from his shoulders to wrap it around hers.  

“Keep warm,” he murmured, surprised to find she didn’t shy away from his touch.  Perhaps she was simply a wanderer who knew nothing of them.  The others in the company had stopped, watching him with thinly veiled interest, as Loki pressed his lips to the woman’s forehead before striding off to join them once more.  

“So a Midgardian has caught the elusive Loki’s attention?” Fandral teased, his own gaze turning to the beauty Loki left behind.  Loki felt his hands ball into fists.

“Some of us prefer to pick one or two, rather than a whole harem,” he reminded Fandral.  “It makes for better company and certainly a better reputation.”  

That was enough to set the warrior off, insisting as they took up walking again that it was not possible for his honor to be in question when he had proven himself time and time again to be a powerful fighter and such a skilled lover that women would have sold all they owned for a night between his sheets.

“I’ll sell all that I own if it’ll get you to shut your mouth,” Sif retorted, her tone as bracing as the chill that followed them into the deep woods.  It was more than enough to cut Fandral off, though he spent most of the time sulking.  Thor remained silent, in tune to what the forest was telling him, what scent was on the wind, and which direction they should follow next according to the tracks within the snow.  It was the perfect time for Loki to go blank as well, though he cast out his magic to try and feel around for what he could find.  His results were inconclusive, and he managed to catch Hogun’s eye and shake his head.  This was  not a storm brought on by magic, and the theory that it was a Frost Giant attack seemed to gain a little more credit, even if the thought put Loki immediately on edge.  What could they possibly gain from attempting a second invasion of Midgard?  Had Laufey not learned his lesson after all?  

The deer on Midgard were easier to hunt than any creature on Asgard, their patterns too simple to predict to give Thor much sport for very long, and between the six of them the haul they brought back in was enormous enough to give the villagers pause, especially when Volstagg asked for three deer to be set aside strictly for him.  The glutton.  Loki’s eyes searched out the gathered crowd, seeking the green of his cloak and the red-head hiding beneath it, but she was nowhere to be found.  As the villagers set to work skinning the beasts and preparing the fires Thor crossed over to take his brother aside.  

“Who was that woman that you showed favor to?  Are you two acquainted?” He asked, his voice soft as they stepped around the outskirts of the village.  His face was illuminated by the fading sun and a certain cunning streak that Loki was sure he’d seen earlier.  It made him roll his eyes.  

“She simply looked cold; I only meant to help her when it was clear she had no idea who I was.”  Loki defended, his chin rising an inch or so to look into his brother’s eyes, defiant.  

Thor cackled.  “Oh, you are attracted to her, then?  I do suppose the mystery of your lineage may be intriguing for her, but she is a mortal, brother.  You know the rules.  You may play with her, and enjoy her company for a short while, but more than that--.”

“I do not think I am the one who needs a reminder in rules, brother.”  His eyebrows rose as he dared his brother to refute it.  

“No, but you are getting defensive already.  Watch yourself little brother, your facade is slipping.”  Thor grinned, having gotten the desired reaction from his brother for the second time that day, and Loki actually cursed this time.  They were spending far too much time verbally sparring if Thor was beginning to pick up on some of Loki’s tricks; he would have to change that.  Not another word was spoken between the as Thor squeezed Loki’s shoulder before passing and calling for the Midgardian women he had been attended to before.  Fandral was already locking lips with one of them, while Volstagg and Sif pelted him with most whatever they could find, determined not to make a big enough scene that the woman could tell what was happening, but just enough that the blond man jolted every few seconds.  Hogun had disappeared, likely to check the border, which was the best plan Loki had heard thus far and left to meet up with him.  None would miss him, and indeed as he stepped through the snowy pathways to the outskirts the mortals parted ways to give him room enough to step through.  One hissed an insult behind his back, and he turned to grab the man by the thick collar before he could skirt away.  Loki’s eyes darkened and he watched the man shake in terror, his own brown eyes blown wide in terror.  He couldn’t have been over forty in mortal years, hair peppered with black and grey hair and had the cuts and scars of a man who had seen his time in battle, yet as talented as he was to survive the fighting he was not intelligent enough, it seemed, to keep his mouth shut.  So Loki would help him with that.  With his free hand he passed it slowly over the man’s lips, and watched with the smallest of smirks as his victim’s eyes widened further, trying to pull his lips apart to scream.  They could not be separated, at least not for some time.  

“Think on your sins in silence,” Loki growled.  “And should you speak my name once more in disdain I will have your tongue for my supper and your skull will be picked clean by Odin’s ravens.  Am I understood?  Nod your head.”

The man’s whole body shook as he nodded, tears clouding his eyes, before Loki threw him back into the snow.  He stumbled to his feet and took off running, slipping as he went, and every so often throwing terrified looks back at the god.  Loki only chuckled.

“And you wonder why they hate you.”  Sif joined him from behind, followed by Hogun, who had apparently finished checking the perimeter.  Loki stiffened, his face going blank as he turned to face her.  There was another who he’d wronged with his mischief, and she’d never quite let him live it down.  Though, in all fairness, the black hair really did suit her better.  It certainly fit her personality: all work and very little play.  They could have been friends, Loki had thought on many occasion, if she could ever pull the stick out of her ass.  

“Thor has his bravado, I have my tricks.”  Loki said with a shrug.  “They are each useful tools in their own way.”

“They don’t fear Thor the way they fear you; he doesn’t revel in their pain.”

“Not to you, perhaps.”  Loki shot her the quickest of smiles, all teeth and malice.  What did she know of his brother but what he showed to the surface; what did any of them know?  Loki may have acted on his darker desires, but Thor harbored them the same as his younger brother.  He was simply better at pushing them aside, at least until the blood lust set in.  

His eyes turned to Hogun.  “What did you find?  I take it you told the Lady?”

Sif snarled at the nickname, winding her hand back to sink it into Loki’s gut, when Hogun caught it.  “We need him.”  The grim man murmured to the angered goddess.  

Sif practically spat, her eyes narrowed in her contempt.  Loki simply smiled, smug.  Yes, they did.  Hogun explained in the silence that followed that he hadn’t found any trace of the giants, if they were in fact the culprits, and Loki was pensive as he considered that.  He could not think what else could possibly cause a winter this fierce, but before he could say much more there was a cry from the forest.  Female and dredged in terror, before it was silenced.  

The three Asgardians flew into action, racing past the tree line towards the sound.  Sif already had her spear drawn, Hogun his sword, and Loki’s hands were finding his knives when they managed to catch sight of blue skin before it winked out of sight, dragging a pale, pink figure behind it.  They tracked it through the forest as quickly as possible, their eyes searching the rest of the forest for a sign of an ambush, or else to follow the trail.  That option ran out as they arrived in an empty, almost circular clearing deep into the woods.  Sif whirled, all silent grace and sharp eyes, as she tried to find the abductor, or the woman who had been taken, but it was Hogun who spotted the body first.  Or what was left of it.  

Loki’s mouth went dry.  Never before had he known Jotuns to commit such violent crimes, and the woman’s body had been completely rendered limb by limb, each of them skewered on branches of the tree.  The gaping hole in her chest aided to the idea that her heart had been ripped out, and all three warriors looked on in shock.  

“Still believe it is a Jotun?” Loki murmured to Hogun, whose lips were pressed hard together, though it wasn’t as if he had another explanation for the blue skin of the creature.  It was not long before the other three of their party joined them, along with three or four mortal men.  One of them fell to the ground and emptied his stomach, the others simply whispered in horror.  Loki was certain he’d heard his name mentioned once or twice, but before he could defend himself, insist that he’d been with the others while this had happened, Thor wheeled on the man.

“You will not speak such vile words,” he growled, towering over the man, his face darkening like an oncoming storm.  

“You promised us protection,” the man managed to stutter back.  “And this happens?  What protection can you bring if your own brother--.”

But what Loki did was never announced.  The man’s head was bashed in with Mjolnir, the heavy metal of the hammer making a dull clang as it dashed the man’s brain against the snow.  “Does anyone else suggest my brother is to blame?” Thor demanded of the remaining men.  They all were quick to shake their heads, and Loki crossed over to his brother.

“Thor, what are you doing?”

“You will not defend yourself so others must do it for you.”  Thor growled, shaking his brother’s hand off. “Now, tell me what you know about this creature and be quick.  Did you see it?  You were all three here before we were.”  His eyes turned to look to Sif and Hogun, both of which had gone quiet.  

“I may have seen blue skin--at least it looked like it,” Sif recounted, and yes, Loki had seen it too.  But what type of creature was blue skinned and this vicious?  As they had expected, Thor tensed at the mention.  If there was one race that the prince of Asgard hated above all others it was the Jotuns, and his fury was enough to send the other men swiftly backtracking to the village with the remains of the victim before they caught the brunt of the fury and ended up dead like their companion.  Well thought out, as the next moment Thor yelled out and slung his hammer deep into the forest, uprooting trees and smashing through whatever got in its way before it was pulled back as though on a leash.  

Loki caught his brother by the arm as he made to release Mjolnir once more.  “Brother, stop.  Think.  We must go speak to the villagers about this.  Perhaps this is not the first time it has happened, and perhaps they will have seen something,” Loki soothed, squeezing harder when Thor turned to glare at him.  He could see the faintest hints of berserker mode, and he changed tact.  “After we have gathered what information we have, we can hunt down this monster.  Yes?”

Silence.  “Yes.”

Good.  They made their way back to the village, speaking amongst themselves to try and come up with a plan, or even an idea what could have done this. Thor was fixated on giant, while Loki insisted it could not have been. They were a monstrous race, but they were not that gruesome.

"Perhaps we ought to call the Allfather and ask for his assistance." Suggested Fandral, an idea that was nearly instantly shot down. No, to involve the Allfather was a poor decision; he would be furious they came down to Midgard without his permission as it was. Why anger him further? Thor denounced it with the assertion that he had to prove himself a worthy leader, a worthy king. Loki just stayed silent, trying to think.

The villagers had congregated around the body brought back by the other village men; the women wailed and the children were pushed away to keep from seeing what had happened. Loki walked amongst them, examining the body and listening into their conversations. Seemed they blamed a woman named Natalia for the incident, saying that such misfortunes had only started when she had arrived. Loki was silent, thinking it over. "Who is this Natalia?" He asked one of the gossiping women. She turned bright pink, flushed with her embarrassment and pleasure at being asked.

"The woman who you gave the cloak to, m'lord." She rasped. "The one with hair like fire? That is the girl--Natalia Romanova."

Loki stiffened and thanked the woman for her help, squeezing her wrinkled and knotted hand. He took off to find her, the one named Natalia, and managed to catch sight of the green of his cloak whipping out of sight some time later, heading back towards the woods. His stomach tightened. Was it possible that the rumors were real? Was that why he had gravitated towards her, because she was more nefarious than the others? These thoughts galloped in Loki's head as he tracked her deep into the now darkening wood. Her footsteps were as silent as his, leaving him to track the indents in the snow alone. Lucky for him his eyesight wasn't dependent on the sun, and he caught her huddled just outside what he could make out to be the opening of a cave. She was deep in his cloak, holding it tight around her small body, and her attention was just as distracted when he came up behind her and clapped his hand over her mouth. She squirmed within his hold, thrashing and breaking his nose. The blood was hot as it dripped down his face but he held fast while the bone and cartilage healed itself. "Natalia, I am not here to harm you. Stop fighting me so I can explain myself."  

She froze at his voice, turning her head back to look at him. "You." She whispered. He nodded. "You don't want to ask me why this happened?"

Of course he did, but he shook his head. "I was simply curious where you were getting to."

"I think I tracked down the monster to here." She whispered, watching the blood vanish from his face. "But what are you all, and how can you hope to fight the, whatever this is?"

"We are gods." He murmured, distracted by the cave she had been watching.  “And believe me when I tell you that it is possible for the six of us to destroy this creature.”

"You can't be. Gods don't exist."

"Neither do monsters." He reminded her. "Now, how do you know?"

"That you cannot be a god?"

"That the monster is here."

She struck him with a look that said their conversation wasn't over, but launched into a hushed explanation about how she had seen wide, large footsteps leading this way, and the noises were "not of this world." Said the disbeliever of gods; what could she have known about what this world held? He ignored it for the time, favoring the opening of the cave, almost willing whatever was in it to show itself. He didn't have much time to wait. There was a low growl, a snap of something that sounded like bone, and a chomp. A pair of cleaned rib bones were thrown out of the cage and a deep voice growled something in a language he’d only heard the Allfather mention in passing, and never in a positive light; the old tongue was not a harbinger of anything positive. It sent chills up Lokis back, his fingers finding and tightening over the knife at his side. His mind flew back to Thor, wondering if he had time to get a message to his brother.

"Look." Natalia's voice was no more than a hiss in his ear as she pointed to the caves entrance. Emerging was the smallest Jotun Loki had ever seen; he was easily around six feet tall, his stomach was practically concave so that his ribs all but stuck out of his skin, which was a pale blue-grey in color. His mouth was blood stained and teeth crooked, while his red eyes looked glazed, as though he hadn't seen a proper meal in some time.

So much for Loki’s assurances that it wasn't a Jotun, but what was a runt doing here, so far from home? The Frost Giants had no love or compassion for weakness within their race, yet one runt still survived. If it could be called surviving.  Loki swallowed hard as he hunkered down in their place, the handle of his knife suddenly hot in his hand.  Natalia’s eyes had gone wide and he could hear her breath hitch.  Unfortunately, so could the Jotun, and its red eyes turned to where the pair of them were hiding.  Blast.  Loki projected a clone of himself a few yards behind the Jotun, causing the beast to whip around and run headlong towards it.  

“Go, go!” Loki hissed at Natalia, pushing her back towards the village.  He followed after her without much of a question, his feet feeling heavy as his heart launched itself up into his throat.  He could hear the scream and the fury of the Jotun as it tore through his clone to find it an illusion.  They’d made it halfway back to the village, Loki practically pulling the red head after him to force her to keep up, when the beast caught up with them.  His blue hand wrapped itself around her arm and yanked her back and out of Loki’s grip.  The sorcerer turned and snarled, trying to alert his brother to their position with a scream as he lunged himself at the giant.  They were decently matched, in height and build, and where the Jotun had obscene strength Loki had speed.  He managed to yank her away from the creature before her skin turned blue--a lucky feat, though Loki even pondered if it had the ability to wither and frost over the skin of any non-Jotun as many of its kin would have had.  It was so weak, after all, yet even despite its weakness it managed to grab hold of Loki’s throat and squeeze the life practically out of him.  

His drop to the ground was preceded by sound of something slicing through the air past his ear, and the clang of metal on bone.  The Jotun fell to the ground with a howl of pain, and the familiar sound of Mjolnir flying back to her owner’s hands filled Loki’s ears, along with shouts from the Warriors Three inquiring about Loki’s well being.  Thor simply thundered past and grabbed at the Jotun.  As he rose to sit up Loki caught him snarling in his face as he lifted him up by the throat to face the prince.  

“You have no right to be on Midgard,” Thor yelled, his eyes narrowing as he shook the blue, pathetic creature in front of him.  “Your king,” the word came out mingled with a derisive laugh, “has lost rights to visit this world.  Give me a sufficient explanation as to why you are here and if I find your information useful then I shall spare you.  Now speak!”  

The Jotun’s red eyes were glazed over more than it had been before, drunk on pain and the blood that seeped from the cracked skin and near dent in its blue skull.  He hardly could make a noise, let alone give an answer outside of: “Exile.  Kill me.”

Thor was more than happy to oblige.  

Natalia was huddled by one of the large fires near the center of the city, Loki’s cloak wrapped tightly around her as she stared into the flames until Loki was certain her lovely blue eyes would be burned out.  Hogun had recommended they return to Asgard to alert the Allfather, unable to keep this from him in good faith, and Loki was simply waiting for them to finish arguing amongst themselves about the best way to approach the subject.  Natalia was a welcome distraction.  He stepped closer to her, making sure that his footsteps were loud enough for her to hear, and as expected she turned to face him before he could get too close.  Her gaze softened when she saw him.  

“Hello.”  She murmured as she scooted aside to offer him a seat beside her on the wooden bench.  He took it with a quick smile.  They sat in silence and for once Loki found that words were unnecessary, only able to cheapen the moment.  Her hand moved over to his to brush against his knuckles, and he let her squeeze his hand.  He would have to leave soon, able to hear the crunching snow beneath the feet of those in his company, and his eyes sought to find hers.  

“Will you be here again?”

“Yes.”

“Can I visit you again?” He asked, the words falling from his lips before he could try and catch them.  As if he wanted to.  She intrigued him, the way a new species intrigued those who studied the environment.  It was only natural that he would want to visit her once more.  Study her, he meant.

Did he?

“You’re leaving?  What if more of those come back?”

“They won’t.  We will be keeping a much closer eye on this world and keep it safe.”

“We?”

“I did tell you we were gods.”  

Thor is beside them now, his smile kind as he looked from the red headed woman to his brother.  The latter moved to stand and Natalia looked up at the two of them.  Her expression was enough to tell Loki she didn’t believe him, and he extended a hand to lift her up with a smile of his own, this one full of mischief.  

“I cannot bring you up to Asgard, but allow me to prove it.”

Fandral stared back at Natalia the entire walk back to the Bifrost site, unable to wrap his mind around the idea that Loki had managed to snag the attention of such a beautiful woman before Fandral was able to.  It made Loki smirk but he didn’t let it affect him in any other way.  When they finally made it to the site Loki pulled Natalia closer to murmur in her ear that he would be back within four to five days.  He told her to keep her eyes open, too, and with a quick grin and a peck at her cheek, he slipped back towards his brother and friends.  Natalia’s gaze was curious, and for one moment Loki could to catch the surprise and shock in her eyes when the rainbow light hit the group and they were pulled back up and into the sky.  

* * *

Thor couldn’t be stopped from boasting when they get back to Asgard about how they saved a poor village from the further terror of the Frost Giants, how Loki was brave enough to find the trail that led them to the beast, and how grateful the Midgardians were of their bravery.  He gives credit where it’s due, Loki had always admitted, though it’s simply a matter of how often he tells the story that will dictate just how often he will mention the part the others play.  By the time he retells it to the Allfather Thor had single-handedly ripped the Jotun’s arm off, and tracked the beast back himself to destroy the monster, as though he was some Midgardian mortal who thought himself a great hero.  What was worse was that the Allfather ate it up as the truth, not bothering to ask where the others were, or what had happened to the rest of the company as to why they were not within the story.  That wasn’t what bothered Loki, however.  Thor was finished with his story and grinning when he brought up Natalia whom he described as the mortal who “thawed Loki’s frozen heart.”

That, it seemed, was enough to get the Allfather’s unwavering attention.  His one good eye met Loki’s gaze, and his youngest son flushed under the attention.  

“Is this true?” Odin asked, voice light, though Loki knew just what it entailed.  Nothing good ever followed a question such as that.  

“She was intriguing; it was nothing more than a passing fancy.”

Thor opened his mouth to deny it, but Loki’s eyes caught him first and he went silent instead.  The Allfather didn’t bring it up again, though his gaze told Loki that he would be paying very close attention to his second son.  The black-haired man cursed his brother’s ignorance, and slugged him in the shoulder once they were clear of the throne room.  

“Did you have to tell him?” Loki hissed, shooting a glare at his brother.  

Thor let out a laugh, shaking his head.  “Loki you cannot tell me that you are serious about this mortal.  She is as you said, a passing fancy.  She can be nothing more than that.”  

But why?  Because she was mortal, or because he was a prince and more was expected out of him than what he’d wanted?  After all, since when had it ever mattered what plans Loki had had for himself in the grand scheme of things?  To the Allfather it was of no importance.  

* * *

Loki had never been more glad of his ability to traverse between worlds without the use of the Bifrost, and though the old pathways were often dangerous--unstable and easy for others to learn of and penetrate when used too often--Loki promised himself that he would just visit her the once.  It was likely she was already married as so many of the Midgardian women seemed to be, and would therefore have duties and expectations set of her that he should not have been interfering with.  He was simply on Midgard to fulfill his curiosity, nothing more.  He let himself believe that as he cut his way through worlds and reappeared at day break in the village he’d visited before.  The weather was more gentle this time, hardly a puff of wind and with the sun peeking out on occasion as it rose into the sky.  The beginnings of a lovely day, he thought with a smile, as he strode through the wet snow towards the center of the village where he hoped to find Natalia.  Perhaps it was dumb luck that he found her when he did, collecting snow to melt for water just a few feet away from his final destination.  Hair like fire, that’s what the old woman in the village had said about her red curls, and they caught his attention as quickly as ever.  She seemed to sense him before she could even hear him, his footsteps too soft for most mortals to detect when he wanted them to be, and when her head rose it was with a smile on her lips.  

“Loki.  I suppose I was wrong about you,” she murmured, standing and balancing the metal bucket on her hip as she surveyed him.

“I suppose you were.  Are you busy?”

She paused, licking her lips as she looked back at her house.  Her shoulders were tense, and as he looked closer there was a bruise peeking out from just beneath her collar.  He’d seen similar ones on Thor after he’d finished coupling with a wench.  Loki must have been right about her having a husband.  “I have some time to spare, I suppose.  Did you have something in mind?” Her blue eyes were alight with curiosity that Loki found he could hardly stomach.  If she was married he ought not to have come back; it was only going to prepare him for disappointment.  

“If you have a husband to be getting back to I would not have you getting in trouble on my behalf for neglecting him.”  Loki said, his tone taking a sharper turn than perhaps it should have.  

Her fingers instinctivly pulled at her collar, tugging it over the marks that must have peppered her skin.  “I have no husband,” she murmured.  “Merely visitors.  I am sure you can understand what my job is and why the women do not trust me.”

Ah.  It made his stomach turn even worse; he’d rather she have been married.  They stood there in silence, neither quite sure what to say until Natalia invited him inside.  “I do not have any plans for the day,” she promised him. “And I was just cleaning up so until you decide what you were about to invite me to do you are welcome to a sit down and some breakfast.”  Her smile was charming enough that he couldn’t blame the men in the village for being taken in with her.  After all, he was in the same position, more or less, wasn’t he?  He followed her inside, ignoring the questions he wished to act in exchange for more tactful ones.  

“You just moved here, did you not?” He took a seat on one of her rickety chairs, the wood groaning under the weight of his leathers and metals.  

“My, someone is a gossip,” she flashed him a smirk as she placed the bucket over a small fire she’d started in a makeshift hearth.  From there she moved slowly around the room, picking up odds and ends as she went to try and make it look far more comfortable, before she joined him at the table.  “Yes, I just moved here from a nearby village; I got caught doing . . . what I do, and it was either I get burned at the stake for being a witch or left before they could get their hands on me.”  Her shrug was quick, noncommittal, drawing Loki’s attention to the marks on her shoulders and leaving him to wonder just how far down they traveled.  With a jolt he thought about his own lips making their way down her pale skin, leaving marks of his own while it was his name on her lips, out of genuine delight not forced enjoyment.  He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, and changed the topic.  

They kept the conversation up for some time, and as promised Natalia didn’t have any other arrangements or appointments she had to keep, allowing them to laze about for the majority of the day.  As time slipped away from Loki he felt himself being further drawn into her story and her life.  She’d been orphaned from a young age, taken in by a kind man, and when he’d died shortly after her seventh birthday she’d been forced to find work where she could, trained as a prostitute until she was old enough to start paying back her debts.  She ran away from the whore house when she was old enough, after being beaten one too many times, and had been jumping from city to city since then.  The prince couldn’t help but be sympathetic, and as he sat opposite her his mind soared as it tried to come up with a solution to her problems.  Surely there was some way he could help her.  

As he prepared to leave for the evening--though she insisted he was more than welcome to stay, and he hoped that was because she was just as interested in their conversation as he had been--his mind finally crafted an idea.  

“If you would like I can assist you with your money troubles.  You could move somewhere much nicer, enjoy a higher quality of life.”  He licked his lips, choosing his words carefully as her head cocked to the side, eyes curious.  

“How do you mean?  You have magic, yes, but how could you possibly help me?”

He held out his hand and a stack of gold coins appeared in his hand.  Natalia couldn’t help her eyes from widening; never before had she seen so much money in one place, though she was trained well enough to keep from reaching out to it.  He pushed it into her hands, so much that it practically spilled between her fingers, and waited until she put it away, locked in a small wooden chest beside the straw mattress she must have slept on every night.  He watched as her eyes resolved to something he couldn’t quite read, and when she moved back to him it was with a cant in his hips that was unfamiliar and impossible for him to take his eyes from.  She stopped just in front of him, one hand slowly snaking its way up his chest, feeling the leather and gold beneath her fingertips, and stopping only when it curled itself in his hair and dragged his lips down to meet hers.  They were soft, yielding to his, and when Loki pulled away she let out a quiet groan.  If he wasn’t so good at detecting a lie he’d have almost believed she wanted him.  

“No--you misunderstand me.”  He breathed, voice ragged before he cleared it.  “I don’t need--that’s not what I want.”  Once again words were becoming difficult, especially under her curious, almost hurt, gaze.  “It’s a gift.  It won’t disappear, and I do not mean to offend you but I do not intend for you to feel pressured to do . . . what it is you do.”  

She didn’t quite seem to understand, her fingers still trailing down his chest as she stared up at him.  “You don’t?  But that’s what all men want.”

“But I am not a man, am I?”  He chuckled.  “And I am sure that you are very, very good at what you do, and you flatter me with the attention but I do not require your, ah, affections.”

She still didn’t quite get it, but didn’t fight his decision, pulling away from Loki.  Her head turned so that she could look back at the money she’d just stowed away and Loki tipped her head back to face him.  “I told you: it is a gift.  Keep it.  It makes me happy enough to help you.”

“Thank you,” she said, biting her bottom lip as her brow furrowed.  Loki pulled away from her to step out the door when she stopped him one last time.  With light feet and quick strides she crossed over to the other side of the house and picked up the cloak he had given her.  She offered it to him, but he simply put his hand up.  

“Please, I don’t need it back.”

* * *

As the time passed he came to visit her more and more frequently, managing to sneak away nearly every day to visit her.  He began neglecting his general duties, ignoring Thor’s questions of where he went every day, and even shrugged Frigga off when she came to him with concern about his absence.

“It is nothing,” he assured her with a smile on the second week she came to him, his hands finding her shoulders and smiling down at her.  The queen had to admit that she had never seen her second son so happy, though for the life of her she could not imagine why he was being so secretive.  Not that he was often so open about his plans with most others, but with her?  He was not one to keep secrets from his mother.  

“Loki, please tell me.”  She pleaded, one hand moving up to caress the side of his face, her other seeking his own out.  He waved her off, just smiling.  

“Trust me when I tell you it is nothing of import.”  He assured her, and with a quick press of his lips to her forehead he strode off again.  When he drew close she could detect a whiff of something not of Asgard.  Something mortal.  She stared after her son, brow drawing closer in her concern, and resigned herself to keep her worries to herself.  If she went to the Allfather there was hardly a way of telling how Odin would react, especially after he’d warned Frigga of his concerns, and what would have to be done if Loki continued to interfere in Midgard.  

* * *

For a full month Loki took it upon him to visit Natalia, bringing her small gifts of Asgard as well as more money that she knew what to do with.  She’d managed to quit her old job, and Loki was happy to see that she carried herself with a bit more dignity, more pep and a wider smile than he’d thought possible.  They could spend hours talking and hardly touching, or else she’d invite him to her bed to shuck off his armor and massage the tension of a hard-won sparring session out of his shoulders.  They never went further than kissing, though it was clear the pair were looking forward to the day when they did, but Loki wasn’t about to push her any further than she felt comfortable with.  Not after what she’d been through.

She asked him why not one night, his arm wrapped loosely around her midsection as they lay side by side, her head turning so she could face him.  Loki’s eyes looked off, staring into the fire that was just opposite them, crackling merrily against the cold of the night.  

“You deserve someone who is willing to wait until you want to give yourself to them,” he murmured in her ear, voice low as he pressed his lips gently to the soft spot behind her ear.  She could barely suppress a shiver as it rolled down her spine, and he smiled against her skin.  “I want to wait until you are ready.”  

Again she shuddered in his hold, but when he pulled away to look at her she was keeping her face closer to the bed.  He could smell salt in the air and for a moment he thought he’d offended her.  He scrambled to apologize quickly when she turned to him, eyes bloodshot as she stared over at him, and shook her head.  One of her fingers pressed against his lips, silencing him.  

“Don’t you dare apologize for that.”  She hissed, and let him pull her into his arms as she sobbed against his chest.  He spent the night with her that evening, falling asleep with her still in his grasp.  

* * *

“Brother I would speak with you!  Do not walk away from me!” Thor bellowed after his brother’s retreating back.  His voice echoed down the hallway, and the urgency that laced his words was enough to make Loki falter.  A mistake, as it gave Thor the perfect opportunity to catch up.  He twisted the dark-haired prince around so that they were face to face, and it started Loki to see how concerned his brother was for him.  It practically bled from his eyes as they picked at Loki’s expression, trying to break him down.  

“Brother you need to stop these trips to Midgard.”

Loki stiffened ever-so slightly, face going blank.  “I beg your pardon?”

“I know what you are doing.  You are visiting the Lady Natalia, and father knows it.”

Again Loki didn’t react.  To react would be admitting to Thor that he was right, and to admit to Thor that he was right was more than Loki wished to bear (even if it was the truth.)  

“Do you love her, brother?” Thor asked, stepping away in his disbelief.  When Loki neither denied or confirmed Thor let out a harsh breath.  “You are the intelligent one in the family, Loki, and I told you to leave it as a fancy.  Take her as a consort but love?  We aren’t allowed it with a mortal.”

How dare he?  After every rule he bent or broke, after each time he ignored what they were allowed and not allowed to do, Thor was going to lecture him?  Loki pulled away, eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother.  “I beg your pardon?”

“The mortal, the one with red hair whom you gave your cloak to--do not play the fool with me, brother.  I am trying to save you.”  The blond man was insistent, trying to search past Loki’s mask to find some semblance of care within his face.  It was for naught.  “Father knows about her, and he knows that you have been visiting her and giving her money from the treasury.  It may not be a significant amount as she does not require much to live off of, but Father is furious.  You must not go today.”  He reached out again and Loki stepped back.  

“Why?  What is this new found understanding of rules and regulations, brother?  You have a knack for destroying them without so much as a care in the world, yet the moment I so much as tiptoe over the line you all act as though I have committed treason against our father.” Loki’s voice had grown soft in his fury, his eyes flashing and teeth bared at the thought.  He hardly realized what he was saying, the dark words slipping past his lips and tongue without much care.  Thor’s face looked stricken, the eldest prince not familiar with the art of keeping his features schooled, so Loki could see every ounce of betrayal as it played across his visage.  

“I know I am not a paradigm of virtue, brother, but I say this now because I care for you, and I care about your well-being.  If you visit Midgard tonight the Allfather will apprehend you and he will punish you.”  

“I don’t care.”

“You should, brother.  He will bind your magic to you so that you cannot use it; he sees your infatuation as a threat to the realm.  I may be reckless, but you are reckless so long as this woman remains so high in your favor.  Any could find her and use her against you, and you would do anything and everything to save her.  Do not deny it.”  

Loki couldn’t and he knew it.  He was a good liar but there was no point when Thor would only call his bluff.  Instead he turned away and scoffed, hands balling into fists at his sides before releasing.  

“Did you tell him?” he accused, voice quiet.  

“No, but he is not called the Allfather for nothing.  Loki, you knew it would only be a matter of time before he found out.”

There was nothing else to be said, and with a heavy heart Loki resigned himself to the library.  Thor called out after him once more and as ever Loki ignored him.  He had nothing left to say to his brother, instead burying himself in his studies.  Once or twice he considered going to Odin to give him an idea of exactly what he was thinking, but decided against it.  To call attention to his father’s beliefs would only put truth behind them.  If he wished the freedom he had gotten so used to, and had taken for granted, he would have to be patient.  He worked throughout the night, not wishing to sleep, yet desperatey wanting for something to pass the time.  

* * *

It was three days later when Loki was finally able to get away, confident that for once he would be able to slink away.  He would only go for a few hours to check on Natalia and ensure that she was still doing well, to promise her he had not forgotten her, and that he would return as often as he could spare.  As per the norm, he arrived just outside the village as the sun was climbing above the horizon line.  The birds sang merrily in the trees, the snow melting under the heat of the oncoming spring, and Loki felt the usual smile play on his lips as he crossed towards the small house.  The smile was short lived once Loki caught sight of the opened, busted door, and the stale scent of copper that clung to the air just outside the house.  His stomach dropped to the ground as he raced forward.  In the morning light he could see her body sprawled out and bare on the straw mattress, eyes wide as they stared blankly up at the ceiling, her normally pale throat stained with now blackened blood.  Her mouth was filled with a scarf he knew she favored, likely to muffle her screams, and Loki felt his knees give way.  He stretched out a hand to grab a hold of the table before he fell down, own scream of disbelief caught in his throat as he stared at her limp, pale body.  No.  No--he was only gone for three days!  Once he could walk again he stepped slowly over towards her, his hand reaching out to take hers.  It was deathly cold, and he pressed it to his cheek as he knelt beside her and wept openly.  Three days.  Three days thanks to Thor and the Allfather, and now his Natalia was dead.  

As he gasped for breath some twenty minutes later he stared around the room, looking for any sign or clue of who could have done it.  The chest she kept her money in was missing, he noticed upon further investigation, and with a sinking feeling he felt guilt rise in his throat.  If he hadn’t given her so much money perhaps this might not have happened.  Perhaps it wouldn’t have attracted the attention of a less desirable clientele and Natalia might . . . And why had her body not been buried?  The blood had crusted around her wounds, so she had been there for some time, likely for over a day, judging by how cold and nearly blue her body was.  Why had the villagers not investigated her?  He felt his sorrow turn to rage in his veins, felt himself standing up and pulling her body into his arms.  With some magic he conjured a white dress to cover her, and his footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he crossed out to dig her a grave.  

He couldn’t help but give himself to his anger the entire time he worked, so that even when he tried to magic the snow away in place of flowers he only set fire to the trees on either side of him.  Very well.  If his magic would not allow him to do good, then he would do what he was best at.  

The villagers had grown used to seeing Loki walking within their village, so his presence no longer attracted the attention it once had.  He even was smiled at by one or two passersby, though he didn’t return the gesture.  There was much business already going on in the market square, and he started there.  The first knife left his hand before he fully understood what he was doing, burying itself into the back of a passing man.  He cried out and fell to the ground, dead by the time his face buried itself in the snow.  There was a scream, and the woman who alerted the others was the next to die, Loki appearing in front of her to bury his second dagger hilt-deep into her heart, not caring that it got stuck in between the ribs; it only made him dig the blade in further.  Now there were more screams as the possessed god turned from man to woman to child, slaughtering any who got in his way, and trapping those who tried to run with his magic.  All would suffer the way Natalia did.  

He was covered in blood by the time the sun was wholly in the sky, and even as he sheathed his two daggers back at his side he couldn’t stop from feeling empty.  He didn’t suppose he would ever feel whole again.  He was about to disappear off to some random planet or moon to mourn properly when he was stopped in his place by a young girl looking up at him.  Her skin was gaunt from the blood loss, and the black of her hair contrasted so sharply with her skin color it reminded him of someone else.  Someone who could help.  

* * *

Never before bad such a bargain been struck, and if it had not been her father demanding it Hela would have told him to be on his way before she made him pay for his disrespect. Her eyes, black as her hair, stared him down from where she sat on her throne of skulls and bones, her fingers playing with the hardened ivory.  As it was, the fire in his eyes nearly burned her alive as he demanded: "I don't care what the cost. Bring her back to me."

“Father, I am not quite sure you understand what you ask.”

“Hela, when have I come to you with a request before?” He asked, his eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to her seat.  She hissed for him to stay where he was but he ignored it.  “I come to you now with one simple task.  Bring. Her. Back.  I will give you what you want, but you bring her back to me.”

“You dare make demands of me?  I am the queen of Hel!”

“And I am your father!” His voice echoed through the hall, and she couldn’t stop herself from cowering.  Never before had he raised his voice to her, and never before had someone ever terrified her so much.  Even though she knew she could have his heart in her hand in a moment, torture his soul for all of eternity, he was her father and . . . she was sure she could get at least one good favor from him.  

“Fine.  I cannot bring her back the way she was before, only put her soul back into another body.  Reincarnation, the mortals call it.  If you loved her as you claim to have, you will have to prove it to her once more; she will not remember who you were or what you two shared.  Understood?”  

He nodded, movements jerky as he stared up at his daughter.  “When can you do it?”

“You must give me time.  This is magic that I have never worked before, father, but she will return, and you will know her when you see her.  But give it time.”  

“What do you want in return.”

Here it was Hela’s turn to smirk, her expression going coy.  “I wish for a favor, one I can call in at any time of my choosing.  Do you agree?”  She held out her thin, emaciated hand.  Without so much as a moment’s hesitation Loki took it and shook.  

“I do.  Just give me Natalia back.”  

 


	2. The Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Thor, and as such messes with [most of] the movie version to make the chapter work. I hope you enjoy it!  
> Also, this is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

Bringing a person back to life was no easy feat, as Hela made sure to tell Loki multiple times.  She would have to find Natasha’s soul, and find an already vacant body to put it in, though Loki was in luck: adults were easier to find.  Loki was against that, however, demanding that she simply be put into a babe that had hardly started its life, but even then the goddess of the dead was skeptical.  To find an empty vessel, unharmed, with those specificities would take some time, and much work with the fates.  Loki simply stared at her, his gaze dark and resolute.  Under it Hela nearly quaked, assuring him she would do the best with what she could find.  It was on that note that Loki left, his pace swift as he walked through the black halls of the underworld.  Even those souls who had not been sent there by him knew to avoid him at all cost, each spirit practically falling over themselves to get out of his way.  Just because they were dead did not mean that he could not hurt them further, and the taste for vengeance had not yet left the prince’s mouth.  He wanted the head of the beast that had done this on a platter, wanted his pound of flesh, and their body rendered limb from limb as they watched him inflict more pain than imaginable on them.  And then, when that was done, he wanted to personally escort their soul into the deepest levels of the underworld so he might invent some personal torture for them himself.  He cared not what other favors he had to pass out to get it; he wanted his damn revenge.

It would have to wait, however.  As he made his way back to Asgard, traversing the same pathways that had once led him from the shining citadel to Midgard, he had the briefest of premonitions of what was waiting for him at the end of the walk.  The guard would have been alerted to bring him before the Allfather, and Thor would likely be with them.  The blundering idiot; he would get what was coming to him as well for keeping Loki from Natalia, whether through guilt or through physical suffering the blond-haired imbecile would pay.  First, he supposed, he had to suffer what consequences the Allfather thought necessary.  Loki’s teeth gritted together as he approached the end of his journey and, as expected, found a trio of guards and his brother waiting at his bedroom door.  None had caught sight of him yet, and how easy would it have been, he thought, to slip through them.  But no, it was better to suffer and get whatever humiliations the Allfather deemed necessary out of the way.  Then, and only then, would he be left alone to plot his revenge, and scour the earth for his Natalia.  

His appearance in front of the group took the guards by surprise, pointing their spears immediately in Loki’s direction, but it was Thor who ordered them to lower their weapons.  

“Brother . . . tell me you have not done what atrocities you are accused of.”  His blue eyes were wide, pleading, until they were met with the sight of the blood that still caked Loki’s hands, now blackened.  

Loki said nothing, though his chin rose in defiance.  If that was not proof enough for Thor then he supposed the imbecile was far less intelligent than Loki had ever hoped.  

“Why?” Thor asked, stepping forward to take his brother’s hands in his own.  Loki pulled them from his strong hands.  

“Because I loved her, and those swine allowed her to die.  And you forced me to stay here.”  Let him feel the guilt that Loki’s heart had been mired in.  “Now, I believe the Allfather wishes to see me; that is why you have all been sent, is it not?”

Thor nodded, swallowing hard as he searched his brother’s eyes, begging for the slightest tremor of remorse.  He found none.  

“Then let us not keep him waiting.  You know how our father can get.”  The words were acid in Loki’s mouth, and without so much as another word to his brother he stepped towards the throne room where Odin would likely be waiting.  The real question was how many others would be there, Loki thought over as Thor trailed behind him, looking more like a hurt pup than a jailor.  Loki knew that his rejection stunned and hurt his brother, but he the dark-haired man was not in any sort of position to care.  What did it matter to him that Thor’s feelings were hurt, when as they were wasting time Loki could have been tracking down those who hurt his Natalia, or even better he could be searching for her.  Hela had promised it would take some time, but perhaps fortune would smile on him.  

To Loki’s surprise the throne room was nearly empty when they appeared; only Frigga and Odin were waiting for their sons.  His mother ran up to him, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she looked at her youngest son, searching his face as she raised one hand to cup his cheek.  

“My son, what has happened to you?  Are you hurt?  Why have you not been taken to the healing room?” she asked, demanding an answer now from the guards, and from Thor, who cowered beneath her glare.  “You should know better than to parade your brother around like a criminal if he has been hurt!”

“Mother, I am fine,” Loki assured her, his voice cool and level.  It brought her attention immediately back to him, her brow furrowed as she processed that the blood was not his own.  

“Frigga, you have seen that he is well, and now I must ask that you leave this matter to myself and our sons.”  The Allfather had stood from his throne, his one eye trained on Loki.  The gaze would have left any other Aesir trembling, but Loki’s resolution was strong.  It was wise of Odin to send Frigga away and keep it between the men of the family, he realized, as the king did not trust Loki not to try and poison any others against the Allfather’s ruling.  The man knew all too well of his son’s ability to sweet talk his way out of nearly any problem, and the influence on any who would be listening in would be too great to ignore if Loki was given a full audience.  

The corners of Loki’s lips twisted up into a cruel smile.  ‘Well played, father.’

But Frigga wasn’t leaving without a fight.  “I demand to know why you have brought him here?  Loki, what happened?  Were you attacked?”

“Tell her, Loki.”  Thor said, his own voice hardening.  “We all wish to hear what happened from your mouth--.”

“Frigga, leave.”  Odin’s voice rose above his eldest son’s and rang with such finality that none other dared to speak a word against it.  Instead Frigga’s eyes, resentful and furious at her husband’s decision, stood on her toes to kiss Loki on the cheek before allowing herself to be escorted out of the throne room.  The guards left with her, and the resounding boom of the door shutting behind them was enough to send goosebumps up Loki’s spine.  

The two brothers were beckoned to stand in front of the throne, Thor standing alongside his brother, as the old man in front of them stared the pair down for some time.  

“Loki, I trust you understand why you have been brought here before your brother and I.”

“Oh, am I in front of the future king of Asgard, as well?  Allow me to remove myself as his equal, then.”  Loki bit, stepping backwards from the red and silver figure at his shoulder.  Thor’s expression was hurt but Loki continued on.  “Please, go stand up next to father.  It’s where you belong, Thor.”

“Enough, Loki.”  Odin’s voice was resolute.  “And answer my question or I’ll bind your magic to you and force you to the truth.”  

Loki gritted his teeth together.  “Yes.  I know why I am here.  I slaughtered a village.”  There was no sense in denying it.

“Why?”  It was Thor who spoke, though he had already been given an answer.  Loki’s expression turned disbelieving.  Was he so thick that he did not remember?

“I told you once brother, but for our father’s sake I will repeat it: the woman I loved was murdered, in her bed, and allowed to rot there like a pig who had just been slaughtered.  She was robbed, and raped I suspected based on the amount of blood that not only had pooled around her chest but stained the bed around her hips.  I exacted my revenge on the townspeople for doing nothing to aid her or to take care of the body.  Though I had made my presence known on more than one occasion as her companion none stopped to tell me what had happened.  I was not about to let her memory be insulted by such actions.”

“How long have you been with this mortal?” Odin asked, his face as blank as ever, though Loki could detect the slightest sliver of irritation in his voice.  Good, Loki wanted him angry.

“Long enough to know that I loved her.”

“You do realize that there are laws set in place that forbid humans be taken as consorts.”

“Yes, I do.  I however was not aware that only the eldest son of the king was allowed to break rules forbidding others from meddling within the mortal lives, nor that taking trips to Midgard were only allowed so long as one was born first.  I shall have to consult the laws once more, Odin king.”  

“Loki--.”

“No, Thor.  Answer me this: why are you congratulated for being a hero if you broke laws to even get to Midgard?  There was nothing but your pride and vanity that led us to Midgard in the first place; the only reason any good was done was due to the frost giant being found.  Had that not been the case, would you still be punished?”  He asked, his face turning livid as he called his brother out.  He turned his fury to Odin.  “When was the last time THOR was punished for his transgressions and rule breaking?  And you, father.  How many mortals have you brought to your bed whilst on Midgard?”  He demanded.  “How many battles have you began with a thrust of Gungnir?  Why is it Loki Odinson who is left to be blamed and scolded for his actions when those of my predecessors have not set a standard befitting the kings of Asgard?”  

“Because it is neither Thor nor myself who decimated an entire village on behalf of one human whore.”  

Loki snarled his fury, spear suddenly in hand when Thor pulled him back.  “Brother, think now,” Thor hissed.  

“Do not call her such things!” Loki yelled, ignoring the surprisingly wise words coming from Thor.  Thinking and words be damned--he wanted to hurt someone.  Preferably Odin.  Yet it was Thor, the thunderer, that held him back, restrained him from unleashing just what fury Loki could possess.  They thought him weak when it came to fighting?  He would show them how strong a sorcerer could be.  

But it didn’t come to that.  The sorcerer was instead sentenced there and then to a crime he found far worse than what he’d imagined.  When Thor had committed a crime that even the Allfather could not overlook he was locked in the dungeons for a few weeks, then released as if nothing had changed.  The same fate could not have been given to Loki, of course, because as the Allfather had explained “a precedent had to be set.”

That evening he was dragged down to the dungeons where no one could hear his shouted protests.  His wrists were clapped in dwarven steel manacles, as were his legs, cementing him to the chair.  A strong guard held his head straight as an older woman came forward with a sewing needle and a spool of golden thread that glinted as if it were on fire.  

“What are you doing?” He demanded, voice rising in his fear.  

“Locking up your tongue,” the woman murmured as she began to thread the needle, one eye closed and the other focused hard on the thread in her hand.  Loki thrashed, trying to break out, but the iron was cutting into his wrists and draining him of his energy. It must have been transfused with a spell, because by the time the woman was ready his body had nearly gone limp.  At least for that moment it had.  She sat just in front of him, cold, wrinkled fingers prodding at his lips as she pressed them hard together.  Loki whimpered, but didn’t truly start screaming until the needle pierced his skin and pressed through his lower and bottom lip with one swift push.  

The work was not long to the woman’s credit, though Loki’s face was tear stained and his whole body was shaking from the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.  For some time he was left there, a sobbing wreck, as the guard and old woman disappearing to likely inform Odin what had been done.  The manacles had bitten so deeply into his skin that he had started to bleed, and he’d not stopped thrashing enough to give them time to heal, leaving them to slowly bleed down his wrists, ankles only protected by his high boots.  While he sat there, shoulders hunched and head bowed, he thought of Natalia’s smile, her laugh, the way her eyes danced when he told her of the glories and wonders of Asgard, singing the praises of his family as though he were a trained song bird.  And he was.  When the glamor and the magic faded all this place came out to be was a sort of prison, a cage that one could only escape if they were the highest born in the land.  Not even a prince of Asgard has the right to what he wanted unless he was THE prince of Asgard.  So his thoughts turned to revenge; revenge upon Odin, upon Thor, upon the whole, bloody shining citadel.  

If  there was one thing Loki knew how to do best it was mischief and revenge.  

* * *

His lips had remained sewn together for three months, during which he spent most of his time exiled to his room, always plotting and scheming.  He was dehydrated and starving by the end of the first month, and Frigga did her best to reason with Odin.  The Allfather would hear nothing of the sort, instructing the healers instead to do their best to keep him alive.  Loki refused the treatment up, not wanting any help of the Allfather’s.  Only when his own magic began to wane did he accept any sort of assistance.  That was all part of the lesson of course.  Humility.  Learning how to ask for help, and how to accept it, and his initial refusal was granted with another month added onto his sentence.  

All the while he kept his eye out for Natalia.  He caught sight of her while scrying one night, and would have cried out in his joy if he could have.  He made to leave that evening; use of his lips or not, the least he could do was at least go out and see her, protect her as best he could.  He’d hardly made it to Midgard using the old pathways when his body collapsed, exhausted and weak from weeks of not eating; the magic had destroyed what little strength he had saved up.  It was Thor who found him there, in the small alley in a  country called Ireland, and luckily for Loki as the next day the city he’d traveled to was sieged.  

Natalia was killed in the fight.  

He wept openly at the news, Frigga holding him tight against her as she stroked his hair.  He’d tried pushing her away, but his body was still too weak and was beginning to betray him.  If this was what the Allfather had wanted, his son broken and weak, well, he’d gotten it.  

* * *

Three more times he managed to track down Natalia, though each time he never got more than a glimpse of her, or a whisper of her name sent to him likely from Hela with a hint towards her location.  But he never seemed to get there in time, either held up by some asinine request of Thor’s that kept him busy for some hours, after which she had disappeared, or else he could practically feel the Allfather’s gaze on him, checking that his youngest was not leaving again.  Loki gritted his teeth and snarled his fury at that.  He wanted to babysit Loki?  Fine.  Then he wasn’t about to make it easy.  He learned how to cloak himself, how to protect his actions from the meddling eyes of the Allfather and Heimdall.  He got so good at it that he learned how to sneak up on the gatekeeper, how to hide from Huginn and Muninn, and most of all he got better at lying until he could say, with the most innocent of faces, that no, he hadn’t gone to Midgard for most of that day.  He adapted, he grew,. he got stronger and the fight within him grew.  The skirmish had ended the moment Odin ordered him to stay on Asgard to the detriment of Natalia; now the war began.  

* * *

The day of Thor’s coronation dawned bright, and all previous trespasses seemed to be forgotten for that one day.  The scars on Loki’s lips and wrists had healed, and he’d put on a good face when he met with his brother in the back room.  

“Never doubt that I love you,” he told Thor, smiling as Thor reached out to rest his hand on the back of Loki’s helmet.  It had gotten easier and easier to fake them as the days had led up to this one, and beneath his grin Thor’s face seemed to lose its nerves.  Somewhere in the back of Loki’s mind he registered what he said as the truth, but after all weren’t the greatest lies always based in some sort of honesty?  The great irony of it all, he supposed.  

Loki left Thor to mull over his own thoughts while the green-clad prince wound his way through the many passageways of the throne room, all built to allow the kings some privacy before meeting with the crowds.  They worked just as well for Loki as they did for the rulers of old, allowing him time and space to check on the opened passageway he’d left, allowing a small group of Jotuns safe passage into Asgard.  They were making decent time, despite being so wary of their surroundings, and he was surprised to see that one of them was quite small.  A runt by their standards.  His fists clenched at his sides before he waved the image away.  No matter; they’d all be dead before long.  Loki was counting on the Destroyer to see to that.

* * *

It had gone nearly to plan; the Jotuns having shown up at the last possible moment had made Loki nervous, but when the Allfather had slammed the base of Gungnir into the floor Loki took off with his brother to investigate.  What they saw was a surprise to the blond man, but Loki was smiling inwardly while to all others his face remained blank.  Good, the Destroyer had done what it was supposed to.  Nearly.  A sniffle and quiet sob sounded from the corner of the room that neither Thor or Odin seemed to pick up.  It was left to Loki to investigate, and what he found was a young woman with shocking red hair and bright blue eyes staring up at him.  Her small body was trembling and he felt his heart drop when she opened her lips to beg him not to hurt her.  How had she avoided the Destroyer?  Or the Jotuns?  And could it really be?

“You’re safe,” he murmured, dropping to his knees beside her as he extended a hand to her upper arm.  She shied away from his touch at first, blue eyes unsure as she stared at him.  

“W-who are you?”

“Prince Loki Odinson,” he murmured.  How had she even gotten here?  He asked her as much when she’d stopped hiccuping, though her voice was so soft he had to lean forward slightly to hear her over his brother and father’s shouting match.

“All is well?  They broke into the weapons vault!  If the frost giants had stolen even one of these relics--.”

“I got lost--I was looking for the coronation and I’ve never been here before,” she whimpered.  “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you my prince.  Please forgive me.”  She bowed her head.  He tipped it upwards.

“I have a truce with King Laufey.”

“He just broke your truce!”

“There is nothing to forgive, my lady.  You are terrified and it is understandable; you have just avoided a group of monsters.  Come, allow me to escort you to the healing room.  They will wish to ensure you are in good health and have not been hurt.”  He offered her his hand, and she slipped her tiny, pale one into it.  She felt surprisingly cool to the touch, likely due to the frost that had settled in on the ground around them.

“What is your name, my lady?”

“Natascha, my prince.”  

His heart nearly jumped through his chest.  

* * *

He was terrified to leave her at all, even when Thor called on him to help on their adventure to Jotunheim.  He’d nearly ripped his brother’s head off at the suggestion, but to do so or act too strangely would only draw attention to them.  So he played it off, told Thor that he needed to check on their guest’s health before he could follow them, saying that he needed at least ten minutes.  Though Thor was loath to give his brother the time, he agreed and disappeared back off towards the Warriors Three and Sif, all of which had also been recruited.  ‘Just like old times,’ thought Loki before he made his way back into the healing room.  Natascha was quiet as the medics worked on her, testing to make sure that she was not very much hurt.  She had a few scrapes and bruises but nothing too serious.  They all seemed to agree that she was lucky enough to not have died from being in such close proximity to the monsters; none of the guards had been so lucky, but Loki didn’t want to hear that right then.  He took her hands in his once he got close enough and pressed his lips to her knuckles.  

“Will you wait for me to return then have dinner with me?  I wish to get to know you further.”

She looked taken aback by his forwardness, and for one heart-breaking moment Loki was forced to remind himself that she had no idea who he was, what they had done, or how she had felt for him those decades ago.  

“If it would please you, my prince, then I would be more than happy to.”

His face split into the first real grin he’d had for ages, joy seeping bone-deep.  “It would please me very much, my lady.  Thank you.”

He hoped he could trust her to be safe in the hands of the healers.  If not, well, once more there would be hell to pay.  

* * *

But the trip to Jotunheim had not gone as they’d planned.  Laufey had been wary of their tricks and when Fandral had gotten hurt they’d had no choice but to retreat.  Not that Loki’s mind was on the wounded warrior.  One of the Jotuns had grabbed his arm and Loki’s throat had nearly closed in his surprise and fear, terrified and waiting for his body to reject the cold of the Jotun’s skin except instead of withering it adapted.  Under the Jotun’s hand his skin began to turn a pale blue, leaving both of them stunned as they watched it travel up his arm.  He’d taken advantage of the Jotun’s stunned look to plunge his dagger into the man’s blue flesh, then turned to watch it shift back to its normal pink hue.

Now, walking back to his room, he could still feel the cold biting into his skin and could still see the blue creeping past his arm, infecting his flesh.  Loki trembled.

To make matters worse now Thor was banished.  Any other time Loki would have rejoiced but, as much as he hated to say it, he wanted his brother then more than ever, wanted the stability of his brother’s idiocy and the ability to fall back on his brother in times of trouble.  Particularly when Loki was in trouble.  His mind was so full of thoughts of blue skin, and frost giants, and a banished brother that he was taken aback when he saw Natascha in his room, staring expectantly up at him from the bed.  

“You told me you wanted to see me later, so I just let myself in and waited here,” she murmured, rising to curtsey.  He waved it away, forcing himself to smile.  

“That’s very nice of you, Natascha but I’m not really in any mood to entertain--.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning as she moved to stand closer to him.  He shied away from her touch.  He was a . . . well, he didn’t know what he was right then and there, but it wasn’t good, and he didn’t want to think about the possibilities of hurting her.  Not now that he’d just gotten her back.  She studied his face with a look he’d only ever seen in his mirror, and before he could fully register what she was doing she put her hand on his forearm.  She smiled and before his eyes he watched her skin turn blue until she was the same hue as the small frost giant he’d allowed into Asgard.  

She’d lied to him.  She’d tricked him.  And as she touched him, his skin began to change, too, until he was as blue as she was.

The shock he’d felt before was nothing in comparison to what he felt now, but though he didn’t pull away from her he still gaped.   How was this even possible?  

“I heard of what happened when you when to Jotunheim, and based on your expression I assumed you had discovered it.”  Natascha said, voice quiet.  She pulled away from him, her skin changing back to normal, and his followed suit.  

“How did you even know--.”

“Laufey knew that his son was stolen by Odin, your king, when they reclaimed the casket.  I was sent along with the other men to find out who it was, and he had told me of his suspicions that it might have been you.  Not many can wield magic as you can; it is not a strictly Aesir trait.”

Didn’t Loki know it.  How many times had he been laughed at and tormented as a child for being a sorcerer, not a warrior?  How often had Odin told him to put his spell books down and learn how to fight with a weapon, not just his words and his spells?  Warriors went to Valhalla, the king had reminded him time and time again, blue eye staring him down.  Thor had insisted that the Allfather was simply trying to help, but Loki had always known, though it was in the farthest reaches of his mind, that he was different.  Now it all made sense.  All those years Odin had simply been trying to avoid the truth of his actions that . . . that Loki was.  

No.

He swallowed hard and felt his breathing grow shallow.  Natascha moved closer, trying to envelop him in her arms.  He let her, let her hold his trembling body as he tried to process it all.  

“You need to talk with Odin,” she murmured in his ear, and Loki nodded.  Yes, he did.  As much as he despised Odin at that moment he needed to speak with him.  And what better way to get his attention then head down to the weapon’s vault?  It was that that Odin seemed to treasure most, aside from Thor of course.

* * *

“Loki just tell me what happened.”  Natascha’s voice was pleading as she watched him pace back and forth, back and forth as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.  It all seemed a blur though he could remember their conversation very clear.  Laufeyson.  He’d come back here after having seen Odin to the Healing Room and learning that his father--No, Odin.  He had never been his father--had fallen into the Odinsleep.  Frigga had been at the pair’s side within the moment, alerted by the guards of what had happened to the king, and Loki had held the distraut queen as they’d walked back to Odin’s chambers.  There, still in a daze from seeing the old man looking so weak and vulnerable for the first time, he’d been presented with Gungnir.  He was king.  These were the facts, yet they hardly seemed to matter.  

_“You’re my son.  I wanted only to protect you.”_

“The King--Odin--he’s fallen into the Odinsleep,” he murmured to the confused Natascha, whose eyes had gone wide.  For her own safety she’d stayed in her Aesir skin, something he’d have to ask her about.  He’d heard before of the Jotun’s learning how to cast illusions, but hers must have been incredibly powerful to remain in that state for so long.  Then again, so was his.  

_“Why, because I’m the monster parents tell their children about at night?”_

“Oh.  So, you are king now then?”

“Yes.”  King Loki.  My King, that was what Frigga had called him after she’d calmed down, and had insisted that this transition be kept as smooth as possible for the sake of the realm.  She was so strong, Loki realized, stronger than any of the others.  Stronger even than Thor, though he must have gotten some of his strength from his mother.  His mother.  Again Loki felt his heart strings being pulled, and he stopped beside his desk to clench the hard wood of the desk.

_“It all makes sense now why you favored Thor all these years because no matter how much you claimed to love me you couldn’t have a frost giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”_

And yet there he was.  King Loki Laufeyson, ruler of Asgard.  The shining citadel was his.  Natascha’s mind seemed to be on the same track, though he could hardly make out what she was saying.  Something about a stronger truce with Laufey.  

“He is your father, after all.”

My father.  Loki licked his lips, eyes searching out hers.  “Could you arrange such a meeting, if I were to bring you back to Jotunheim?”  Would the king even want to see his son, or be interested in such a pact?  It would certainly improve relations between the two worlds, and that was what the realm sorely needed.  Natascha’s lips spread wide and nodded.  

“Yes, I can do that, my king.”  She murmured, rising to stand in front of him.  He felt his heart leap into his throat and he shook his head.  

“Do not call me that.  I did not wish for this crown, nor do I like its weight on my shoulders,” he murmured.  He’d never been after the throne.  No, he’d simply wanted peace.  Solitude.  And Natasha.  He smiled at her and brought his lips to her forehead.  Instead, she raised herself on her toes to press her lips to his, taking him by surprise as she wrapped her arms around his waist.  He responded with fervor, holding her close to him, and for the briefest of moments she stopped.  Fearing he’d offended her he pulled away.  

“What is wrong?”

“Have we . . . I get the strangest feeling that I, but no that’s not quite it.  It is almost as if. . . but that’s surely impossible.  I’ve never met you before in my life.”  She was rambling, her expression confused as she dragged one hand slowly down his cheek, blue eyes confused.  

He kissed her again, holding her even tighter.  Even if she never remembered, as Hela had predicted she wouldn’t, this sort of deja vu, he supposed it could be called, was better than nothing.  He was grinning when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and eyes bright.  

“Don’t worry.  I feel the same,” he promised, his forehead pressed against hers.  A soft hum of contentment left her lips as she smiled and relaxed in his hold, neither wanting to move before they absolutely had to.

* * *

For some time things were happy, and Loki woke many days to find a smile on his face and Natascha in his arms.  They spent most days together, wasting time as she taught him how to gain control over his Jotun powers over ice both in and out of his true form.  It was surprisingly difficult work, though he set to it like a madman, always wanting to show her just how accomplished he could be.  Vanity would be his downfall, after all, though she never seemed to mind that he enjoyed showing off.  If anything she encouraged it, eyebrows rising playfully as she wondered aloud whether or not he could do something (and he always did.)  He did his best to split his time between the throne and Natascha, but the latter always ended up winning out.  

As he’d asked, she was able to get him a meeting with Laufey, and a few days past that the pair of them made it to Jotunheim.  Laufey king was an imposing sight as he sat on his throne, eyeing the pair of them.  Natascha’s skin changed blue as she dropped to her knees to pay him the respect due, while Loki simply bowed his head.  

“Perhaps letting the Allfather take you was not a poor decision after all,” said the Jotun king as way of greeting.  Loki’s smile hardened.

“I do aim to please, Laufey.  I have a proposition for you now.”  

“I will hear you.”

Oh, good of him to say so.  “I will conceal you, and a handful of your soldiers, and you can slay the Allfather where he lies.  After that, I only ask for an iron-clad peace treaty between Jotunheim and Asgard.”

“Why not kill him yourself?” the Jotun king asked, leaning back in his seat as he stared down at his diminutive son, his expression almost bored.  “You are in position to, and surely the glory should go to you for masterminding this operation.”

“If I wish to keep ruling Asgard, I cannot simply kill who they assume to be my father, can I?”  It would forever remain a mystery, he supposed, as to where he’d gained his intelligence if his father was so dim witted.  It was the very basis of politics that one did not murder that who came before unless one intended on usurping the throne.  Loki very much did not want his people to see him as such; it would get him mutinied before he could blink; the Asgardians had very strict rules about honor, after all.  “Besides, with Odin out of the way and a treaty between the two of our realms I can offer you so much more.”  

The king sat forward on his seat, red eyes taking Loki in as though for the first time.  

“I can offer you the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

There was a pause, filled by the howling wind and the rustling of the king’s foot soldiers as they stared up at their king.  Loki was smiling, Natascha had hardly moved from her kneeling position, and Laufey’s face was stoic.  

Then.  “I accept.”

Plans were made, and after the next twenty-four hours the Allfather would be dead, Loki permanently on the throne, and Asgard and Jotun would be allied by Laufey and his true son.  What was more Loki admitted to the king to having convinced Thor never to return.  His father grinned at that, pleased at the exile of the “golden brat.”  

“Though I’d have liked to kill him myself, too.”

“Perhaps you will get the chance.”  Though Loki doubted it.  

The king’s gaze turned to the small Jotun at Loki’s side, complimenting her on a job well done.  Only then did she raise her head, her face practically glowing in her pride, as she thanked him.  “I do my best to be of use where I can, Laufey king.”

“And you have done magnificently, Natascha.”  

They took their leave soon after that, neither wishing to garner attention by Loki’s prolonged absence, and with one final look back at his father Loki and Natasha made their way back to the Bifrost site.  If only the plan could have been that easy.  

* * *

“What are you thinking of my king?” Natascha asked, running her fingers through Loki’s black hair.  The coolness of her skin was a comfort to the heat that resided from their lovemaking, and he smiled as his eyes caught hers.  

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”  

He laughed, never having been accused of that before.  It was a strange sentiment to hear leave her lips, stranger when he looked into her face and saw red eyes staring back at him.  They were kind, however, and filled with--was it love?  He did not know how to classify it, only that he wanted more.  He tilted his head upwards to capture her lips with his own, cupping the side of her face with his hand.  

“That I want this to never end,” he murmured against her lips when he finally pulled away.  “That I love you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and when he looked her in the face he was happy to see that she was smiling.  She pressed her cold lips to his forehead, murmuring that she loved him as well before relaxing at his side.  One of his arms, now blue in her hold, wrapped around her waist to pull her body to his.  It all seemed too good to last, and yet . . . and yet he could only pray that it did.  

* * *

Heimdall had been frozen solid, the Destroyer sent to kill Thor and the Warriors Three for interfering, and the Frost Giants had made it into Asgard.  Laufey was gloating all the while they strode down the rainbow bridge, claiming how he would have liked to “redecorate” the golden citadel to usher in the age of a new king.  Natascha smiled up at him, eager to listen and to please when she could, but Loki remained silent.  Laufey could say what he wished, but this was his . . . well, it had been his home for as long as he had ever known.  As gaudy and excessive as it was  Loki loved in its own way, and so he kept his mouth shut.  The plan had to go off without a hitch, didn’t it?  

Loki was absent as Laufey made his way into the royal chamber after two of his personal guards went ahead to take care of Frigga; two of his men went to take the casket.  The guards had been warned not to harm her, though Loki knew she would put up a fight, and Laufey had rolled his eyes at his son’s request but agreed.  Frigga was not his concern, anyway.  

From in front of the closed doors Loki listened, heard Laufey crow to the sleeping man

“It’s said you can still see and hear what transpires around you.”

Something inside Loki’s chest twisted, and he kissed the top of Natascha’s head and ordered her to stay there.  She looked up in confusion but nodded.  She could do that, she supposed, though the question of what he was about to do stayed on her lips.  It wasn’t her place to ask, not at that moment, so she instead turned her gaze to watch.  All other Asgardians had been forced to leave the palace, so it was not as though they were about to be interrupted.  

The doors burst open and Loki found Laufey about to slice Odin’s throat open, an ice dagger held tight in the man’s blue hand.  Summoning Gungnir, the king of Asgard pointed it at his father and shot a beam of light at the giant, sending him toppling to the floor, flipping over the headboard to look at his son.  His red eyes bled betrayal as he formed his lips to speak.  Whatever those last words might have been Loki would never know as a moment later the giant was obliterated, disintegrated into dust.  

A cry of betrayal and anger came from behind him, taking the king off guard as he whipped around to stare.  Natascha’s eyes were wide, horrified at what had happened, and just behind her stood one of the guards that had been sent to reclaim the casket.  The blue box had been set down to one side as the man’s red eyes took in the situation.  Before Loki could order them to stop a snarl of anger left the giant’s throat as his arm became encased in ice and it was plunged into Natascha’s unguarded back.  

She screamed, or maybe that was Loki, and the light left the small Jotun’s eyes almost instantly as her body slumped to the ground.  

“Traitor!” the Jotun yelled.  “You seek to kill your own father--you dishonor your own people by this betrayal!”  His large hands picked up the now forgotten casket and pointed it at Loki.  The king hardly seemed to realize what was happening, his eyes blank as they stared at Natascha’s limp body.  The blast of ice he expected never came, as there was another shout from behind the Jotun before the familiar clang of Mjolnir rang in Loki’s ears.  He hardly noticed, his feet taking him instead to where Natascha’s blue body laid, pulling her into his arms before Thor could reach either of them.  

“Loki--what are you doing?” He snarled, fury rising through the blond man’s voice.  “Face me.”

No.  How could he ever face anything?  He’d just seen his love murdered--again--and did nothing to help her--again.  His heart sank, and as he turned on his brother he found Thor comforting Frigga, explaining how Loki set the Destroyer on Thor and the Warriors Three.  Frigga’s eyes were wide and terrified as she looked at her son--no, at Loki.  She was not his mother, and the sooner he came to terms with that the easier it would be.  Loki’s eyes narrowed and the moment that Thor began to cross over towards him he aimed Gungnir at the man he’d once called brother and blasted him out of the room.

Odin slept through this all.

On horseback Loki made it to the Bifrost in what felt like no time, the staff still at his side, and when he stepped into the golden chamber and struck the base of the mechanism with Gungnir it sprang to life underneath him.  The power surged through the golden room, filling it with a strange light as the sound of the machine whirring filled his ears.

_“The Jotuns must learn to fear me just as they feared you.”_

_“That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership--you’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you--about a warrior’s patience.”_

_“While you sit and wait the nine realms laugh at us!  You would stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!”_

_“You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy!”_

Yes, he was.  But his vengeance would be swift, absolute.  Those monsters had taken from from him what was his, and once more those who had stood by and done nothing would pay the price for those who had been foolish enough to take his love from him.  The branches of Yggdrasil stood out, ice-white, against the now dark gold of the room, and the Bifrost’s power kept building and building, tearing into the harsh exterior of the realm, ripping Jotunheim to shreds.  Not that he cared.  When had those people done anything but bring him pain and suffering?

Thor came to stop him moments later, glaring at Loki.  “How dare you lie to our mother that way?”  He demanded.  “Loki you must stop this madness.”

“Why?” Loki’s voice was a growl as he whirled around to face the angered thunderer.  What did he know about madness?  “What is this new found love for those monsters?”  He stepped down from his pedestal to stand before his brother.  The Bifrost seemed stable enough, and he summoned his staff to him once more, pointing it at Thor.  “You, who would have killed them all with your bare hands.”

“I’ve changed.”

“So have I.”  In more ways than he knew.  He struck Thor with his staff, watching as it cut his cheek.  “Now get out of here and let me finish.  You know not what you interrupt.”  He had been robbed of his vengeance before when the Allfather had ordered him to stay on Asgard rather than track down the fiends that had murdered Natascha before.  He would not be slighted by fate again.  

“I will not let you do this, brother!”

“I’m not your brother--I never was.”  

“Loki, this is madness.”

“Is it?” He was hardly aware that he was hissing the words now, his body trembling as he moved closer to his brother.  Thor, to his credit, didn’t back off, though Loki could see in his eyes that he was worried for what Loki had become.  For what had happened to the trickster that the blond had once known.  “Is it?” he demanded again.  “They deserve it--they killed that which I love, and I will destroy them all for their sins.”

“You can’t kill an entire race.”

“Why not?  Have you some new found love for the frost giants?”  His lips spread into a grin, maddened by the paralleled situations.  What had happened on Midgard to change him so?  The Thor he knew would have joined in--Hel, he would have gone to the planet himself to dispose of the beasts himself.  

Loki and Natascha included if he ever found out what they were.  

“I’ve changed.”  Thor’s voice was solid as he replied, his blue eyes even bluer in the strange light.

“So have I.”  Loki pushed his brother back.  “Now leave.  Go back to your mother and pretend you did not see what the king of Asgard is doing.  It will not be long now before Jotunheim is nothing but a husk of a world, once home to a disgusting race of monsters.”

“I cannot let you do this, brother!”  Thor would not be swayed, stepping closer to bring his hands to his brother’s shoulders.  Loki ripped away from them, slugging his brother in the stomach.  It made the god double over, his blue eyes shocked.  Never outside the training room had Loki struck him before as he had done that day.  

“Leave!”  

“No!”  With a cry Thor threw himself at his brother, Mjolnir aloft and ready to crash into Loki’s head, before the sorcerer’s staff came up to block it.  While Thor had the advantage of brute strength he lacked range and the speed that Loki had in spades, yet they knew each other’s tricks.  The fight spilled backwards onto the rainbow bridge, neither brother willing to relent, and Loki all the while screaming at his brother that he had to do this.  He had to avenge her, to get back at the Jotuns for what they had done.  Thor didn’t understand--couldn’t understand.  What had he ever lost, after all?  When had the golden boy of Asgard ever suffered the crippling reality of losing that which he loved?  Never.  

Their fight spilled out onto the bridge where Thor struck Loki down.  The black-haired man hung from the edge of the rainbow bridge, crying out for Thor to help him.  The blond looked down at his adopted brother, and Loki saw the decision play through his brother’s eyes.  The Bifrost was still destroying Jotunheim, but the bridge was beginning to crack from the weight of the beam.  If Loki calculated it just right . . .

He let go of the bridge moments before Thor could reach out to him, feeling himself drop further and further until the water that was just beneath the bridge crashed around him.  Thor’s scream echoed in his ears before the water drowned it out.  He allowed the water to carry him to the end of the Bifrost, which was beginning to fall as the bridge finally gave way under what looked like Thor’s hammer.  A black hole opened up, and as Loki came to the end, to the falls, the last thing he saw was the black hole that had become his destination.  

Then nothing but the inky blackness of the cosmos and Natascha’s voice in his ears.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to take a quick moment to thank you all so, so much for your sweet comments--I really appreciate them, and they inspire me to write more for this fic! So thank you all again!


	3. The Bargain

The dark was all consuming, pressing in on him from every angle until he felt as if he might scream for want of something else.  It wrung him completely dry of everything he thought important, thoughts of Thor, the Bifrost, Jotunheim, even Natalia and Natascha for some time were driven from his thoughts.  It was bliss.  It was terrifying.  He was wordless, hopeless, visionless as he just seemed to drift along whatever was holding him, cocooning him in the warmest void he could imagine.  The strangeness of the situation was not lost on him, though he had no idea how to remedy it.  How did one break from limbo?

How did one break from limbo when they had no desire to?

He eventually fell onto what felt like a moon, the surface cracked and parched, ashen grey and barren save for one figure standing in front of him.  As the once king of Asgard raised his head to stare at the Other.  The creature was vile, its grin obscene and yet it extended a hand to help Loki to his feet.  

“Welcome, Loki Laufeyson.  We have been expecting you for some time.”

* * *

They fed him and sat him down, telling him that he was a far distance from Asgard and Midgard but never giving him a location, nor a name.  The man who spoke with him, if a man was what he could be called, was simply known as the Other and Loki was to leave it at that.  Very well, he knew better than to question.  

“Why did you save me?”  He asked once the Other had finished his explanation.  Rarely was there an occasion where all was offered without a price attached to the end.  

“Save you?”  The Other gave a short, husky laugh.  “We did not save you; you fell upon this moon.”

“But you have fed me, offered me shelter.  Without it there is the possibility of death and therefore you have, for all intents and purposes, saved me.  I wish to know why.”  Loki brought his gaze up to the cowl and mask of the man in front of him, his face hidden for the most part, save his lips which were twisted in a smirk.

“My Master has a plan he wishes for you to hear out.  He knows you as the formidable Loki Laufeyson--.”

The name still set his teeth on edge.

“And wishes you to consider a proposal.”

“Who is your Master?” Loki asked, his eyes turning from the Other to stare out at what else he could see.  There was little aside from large rock structures, one of them a huge staircase so high that Loki could not see what was at the top.  He would investigate it later.  

“He wishes to go unnamed until you have decided whether or not you will accept his plan.”

That made sense and even if Loki didn’t like it he could respect it.  He leaned back in the seat he had been given, trying to search around for more clues, but the area was nearly empty, bland in its sameness, and when he could get a look at what was around him he found he was not sure he liked it.  There was something large flying just past the horizon line, so large it bore to mind a tale he’d heard of an alien race of soldiers, willing to fight for the highest price.  Assassins, mercenaries.  Reckless; not the best of armies but large enough in numbers to put up a hell of a fight.  They were homeless and all the more dangerous for it.  Almost like him.  

“You house the Chitauri.”  He said, voice quiet, and by the way the Other stiffened at the words he knew he was right.  He couldn’t help but think, sarcastically, that of all the damn places for him to land it had to be here.  “And I am assuming you need one to lead them into battle.  Am I wrong?”

A pause.  “No.”

“Why me?”

The Other was quiet for some time, considering just what to tell the Asgardian. His gaze, from what Loki could feel rather than see, was distrustful and it made the demigod roll his eyes.

"You wish me to lead yet you tell me nothing. How is this to work?" He challenged, rising to pace around the Other, his eyes taking in the shrouded figure.  “I will do nothing if you do not share with me the information I desire.”  Not that he was quite looking to lead an army.  His thoughts flew to Odin and Thor, they who would have held him back from what he wanted.  Perhaps there was an opportunity here to show the pair of them that he was strong enough to support himself.  He had to prove to them that they had made a grave error in assuming he would not fight back, would not try to punish them for what they had done to his love.  

“You have ambition and cunning enough to plan an attack,” the Other said after some silence.  “You will lead the Chitauri into battle and conquer the earth.  We care not for it; it is yours if you wish yourself a kingdom.  We care only for the tesseract, which is currently held by the humans.  The cowering wretches understand not what power it wields, and we cannot allow such a weapon to remain within the possession of the imbeciles.  They have had its power at their disposal before and their kind--.”

“Do not lie to the god of lies.”  Loki’s words were quiet but the cut off the Other without having to exert much effort.  “You wish for the tesseract for another reason.  I care not why as it concerns me not.  But do not think to trick me.”  He smirked.  

A deep laugh came from the Other as he came closer to the once king and laid a hand on his shoulder.  

“Then we have an agreement?  You will lead our forces to the Earth, bring us the tesseract, and you the humans and their planet are yours to command.”

“I have one further stipulation.”

“Yes?”

“There is a woman I seek, and it is likely she is on Midagrd.  I have been looking for her for nearly a century.  If I find her no harm can come to her else our deal is off, and I owe you nothing.  Am I understood?”  The idea had blossomed in his head the moment the Other had told him to attack the Earth.  He would not risk Natalia’s safety for anything, not even the chance to rule or to prove a point to Odin and Thor.  Natalia would always come first.

The Other turned to face Loki, silent in his contemplation.  Loki could practically see the cogs of the man’s mind working while his own face was stoic, emotionless.  He was glad now for his own experience keeping his emotions under check.  It seemed all those decades at court had prove useful after all.

“Understood.”  The being extended his hand, which Loki took.  “You will identify her when you see her and I will see to it that she is not injured.”

Loki nodded and felt a surge of magic around their connected arms.  The Other bound their words and deal with magic, as was his right, and Loki couldn’t help but be glad of it though he noticed the world take on a different hue, almost as though the lights had been dimmed.  He would be held accountable for his end of the bargain, just as the Other was, and should it go awry, well, the spell would keep the pair of them to their word up until that point.  

He only prayed that, if Natalia was hurt in some way it would not be fatal.  He would never forgive himself for it.  

* * *

From what the archer’s mind had told him the year was two-thousand and twelve.  Strange how many centuries had passed since he’d been to Midgard last, and when he searched the man’s mind there was one character that stuck out from the others.  Barton had been helpful with providing information on the other men that Loki was going to be pitted against, but the woman was the one who caught his attention.  In Barton’s mind eye he could see her flaming hair, but there was a resistance in Barton’s desire to talk about her.  Clearly the Hawk had some sort of alliance with her, deeper than just the bonds of warriors in arms, but just how deep the connection went he had no idea.  He seemed much more concerned with keeping the identity of another agent a secret than close-guarding all of his information, letting slip only that she was a Russian spy, one of the best, and that her speciality was seduction and espionage.  They had been intimate in the past while working together, putting the sorcerer’s teeth on edge as he saw the memories float to the surface, but he put them aside for another day.  If it was not his Natalia then it mattered not, but if it was.  Well, the archer may not be so grateful for his intimacy with the woman.  

The man’s hesitance to divulge information made sense, Loki thought as he recounted what little true information he’d been able to divine.  To increase the spell over such a strong mind would wreck the Hawk and everything that he was; Loki needed him, knowing he would be an asset in the time to come.  They made plans for Loki to get caught in Stuttgart, Germany, creating a distraction large enough to allow Barton to retrieve what he needed and escape just as quickly.  

“Aren’t you worried about Shield catching you?”  The archer asked, staring at Loki with blank, emotionless eyes.  “It could make our mission more difficult.”

Loki just chuckled.  “Is this concern, Agent Barton?  No, I fear not for myself for when they catch me I will not be trapped in there with them; they will be trapped with me.”  

“Yes sir.”

“Now, tell me all I need to know about this Captain America.”

* * *

Her voice had been what had thrown him off at first; it was sultry, deeper, even when she was commanding him to drop his scepter.  For a moment he hesitated, then shot at the jet.  The pilot avoided it, and he was nearly certain it was her.  There wasn’t much time left to contemplate it, however, as the good Captain in front of him had started the attack and there will be no rest until one of them succeeded.  As it turned out, though the blond man is faster than Loki would have thought, Loki had the power, and had the red, white, and blue patriot on all fours before long.  

“Kneel,” he growled.  

He admired the Captain’s defiance, even if it is idiotic, but it is the man in iron who defeated him, launching a beam of pure energy at Loki’s chest that nearly knocked him out cold as he bounced along the hard ground.  As Barton explained there’s unresolved tension between the Iron Man and the Captain, tension Loki knew how to use to his advantage, but his gaze instead tried to focus on the redheaded woman in the pilot seat of the jet as it landed, the one who shot at him.  The one whose blue eyes seem all too familiar.  His stomach lurched as he tried to stand, and that was all it took for the Iron Man to knock him out.  

* * *

When he came to he was being shaken awake, Thor’s face looming in front of him.  “Brother what are you doing here?”

“I’d have thought it obvious,” Loki’s tongue felt thick though the words still manage to get out.  “I am here to take what you want most since you and father have seen to taking all I ever wanted.”  He turned to look around the grey room, finding the metal all too familiar and similar to Asgard, and yet too different at the same time.  Where Asgard was warm and inviting this place was dark, empty, utilitarian and emotionless.  How could any survive in such a desolate place?  “Am I to understand you have brought me to your Headquarters?” he asked, his lips twisted in a smirk.  His eyes sought out the woman with hair like fire, so alike his Natalia, but she was nowhere to be found.  Instead only a handful of what must have been guards stood, watching the two brother’s reunite.  

“Loki, this realm is under my protection.”  Thor’s voice rang with authority, and years later, when Loki was young and inexperienced, he might have cowered underneath the tone, knowing it to be the one the Allfather used when he wished for none to second guess his decision.  Now Loki only laughed.

“And you’re doing a marvelous job,” he stressed. “The humans slaughter one another in droves and you call yourself their protector?”  He practically snorted, sitting up slowly from his bed to better face Thor.  “You know nothing of ruling, Thor.”

“And I suppose you do?”

“I mean to rule these humans--not idly stand by and wait for father to give me direction and purpose.”  Every word might as well have been a dagger from Loki’s lips, sinking themselves into Thor’s heart.  The blond god sighed and stood.  

“They have a cell waiting for you, brother.”

“As I expected they would. Are you to be part of my guard, dear brother?” He asked, drawing the last word out as he raised his eyes to Thor’s.  There was such malice that the thunderer shuddered.  Without so much as another word between them the trickster was escorted down the hall towards what was to be his cell.  Thor left him halfway through and as Loki walked down the grey and metal hallways (they really needed to fix that) he caught sight of Bruce.  His lips spread into a wide grin, practically laughing as he watched the scientist take off his glasses and stare right back.  Perfect.  This was all going so perfectly.  

His cage was nothing more than a simple glass circle, one he knew he could break through if it came down to it.  Hel, he could magick out of it if he truly desired, but he enjoyed seeing Fury gloat--it was a far greater tell than anything else.  As the tall one-eyed man lectured him, reminding the trickster increasingly of his adopted father, Loki’s grin grew inch by inch.  

“It burns you to have come so close to power.  Real power.  And for what?”  He turned away to look at where he knew there was a camera focused on him.  They would have him under constant surveillance, not that he could blame them.  He was by far the most dangerous thing on this ship.  Perhaps less than the green monster that Barton had told him about, but still up there.  They had no idea what power Loki truly held, and if his Natalia was out there . . . well, he would have her.  

* * *

As it turned out he did not have to wait very long to find her.  The woman whom he had seen flying the jet neared his cage and though he did not recognize her based on the sounds of her footsteps he could not stop himself from staring the moment the words had left his lips and he’d turned to face her.  “There’s not many people who can sneak up on me--.”  His mouth went dry, his eyes he knew had widened as he took her in.  She was shorter this time, as was her hair, and dressed in . . . a much more sinful outfit than he would have preferred for their first meeting.  He did not want other men to look at her the way he knew they must.  Leather?  Truly?  And as form fitting as it was . . . well, there was not much left to the imagination and he mourned the loss of the intrigue.  Her hair was as red as he remembered, and Hela had even managed to get her eyes down to the same color.  He would have to remember to fashion his daughter something spectacular for her name-day, perhaps a tragedy on one of the decent realms.  Something that would get her many new souls to rule over.  He neared the glass, pressed his fingers up against the glass as he missed her next words.  This woman was schooled in keeping her features blank, and as he stared further at her he recognized her as the woman that Barton was so . . . intimately related with on occasion.  The thought made his blood boil.  She had been used, her body had been used in such ways that made him nauseous.  If he ever found the man that had run the so called Red Room he would rip his spine out with his bare hands.  

“Sorry?” He murmured.  Was that a flicker of surprise in her eyes?

“I said that you figured I would come.”

“Yes, of course I did.  Natasha is your name, is it not?”  He asked, giving her such a thorough look over that he was certain if she was anyone else she might have blushed.  He could not help himself; he had missed her so much, and yet there she was, only a few feet away.  He felt the urge to press through the glass run through his veins but he restrained himself.  To do that would be to give away the game, and at the moment the game was what mattered.  He could not remove himself as a pawn from it until she was injured, and though the idea made him sick he knew it had to happen if he were not to suffer any further repercussions.  

At least he’d made the deal.

“Yeah.  Did Barton tell you that?”

“Barton told me a great deal.  He did not prepare me for how lovely you were, however.”

Her expression faltered for the briefest of moments.  Was he really coming onto her?  Then?  

Loki just smiled.  “I know you will not remember because that is part of the bargain but you and I have done this before.”  He told her, longing to step reach to her and touch her.  “Many a time, actually.  Throughout the centuries I have been searching for you, and each time I have been unsuccessful in finding you.”  

Incredulous didn’t begin to cover her expression but Loki had waited for far too long to have an opportunity like this, and each time he did wait something terrible happened.  Not this time.  Oh no, he had a plan and as he stared at her it began to evolve.  It would have to start somewhere, however.  

“That is not why you came, however.  You came to reason with me about Barton, did you not?”

“Yes.”  It was a miracle her voice didn’t quake, but Loki smiled nonetheless.

“To bargain for his life?  I admire your loyalty.”  He admired it very much.  It was the same each time he met her and he was thrilled that it did not falter.  

“Thank you.”  The words sounded unsure.  Loki retreated from his place so close to the glass and moved to sit on the bench just behind him.  

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you owe him such loyalty?  What is he to you?”  He knew they were lovers at some point, though there was another that Barton held in such high esteem, and aside from that he knew nothing of the two of them.  

Natasha looked back to the chair just behind her and with a heavy sigh she moved to bring it forward, sitting it in front of the cage.  Her blue eyes went out of focus as she stared at the base of the cage, pulling forth and likely editing her memories for Loki’s sake.  He wished she would not but could think of no polite way of saying it.  As she explained to him that Barton had saved her life in making a different call Loki did his best to read her voice, to catalogue every inflection in her words, and more than that to watch her expression.  Though she was an expert at masking it her eyes told him infinitely more.  She cared deeply for the archer, but not in the way that Loki had feared, as though the man were nothing more than a brother to her, or a rather close friend.  His heart leapt.  

“And have you had many other suitors?”

“I fail to see how that is relevant.”

“Quid Pro Quo, Natasha.  You tell me things I tell you things.”

She paused, head cocked to the side.  “Silence of the Lambs?”

“Barton is a fan of it; the line seemed apt.”

“And you were inside his mind?”

“You are getting away from my question, Natasha.”

She took a deep breath, her head turning to the side as she seemed to consider her options.  Finally: “No, I’m not dating anyone, though I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

“Simple curiosity.  Yes, I was inside his mind.  I still am.  I can see everything that ever was or ever has been in his mind.  Would you like to know who he truly cares about amidst all this?”  He asked, playing her around.  He knew who she hoped Barton would think of, and she also knew the reality.  It was amusing, he had to admit, to watch the cogs turn in her head even as she tried to conceal them  

“Why?”

“Why not?  He is my pawn to move as I wish.”

“Just as you are someone else’s.”

“Oh how clever you think you are.  Tell me, what has brought you to that conclusion?”

“Take it from one pawn to the other.”

She was good he was thrilled to find.  His lips split into a wide grin.  “And you care about this little pawn of mine?  What would you do if I vowed to spare him?”

“Not let you out--.”

“Good because I like this.  I like this very much--I like you very much, Natasha.”  His Natasha.  “I am interested in your decision to bargain for the life of one man.  What means he to you?”  

“I owe him a debt as I told you.”

“What more than that, Natasha?” he asked, his tone practically begging her to tell him more.  When she didn’t, when she clammed up a chuckle bubbled forth from his lips.  “Come, I am not near the monster you brought here.”

Something clicked in her eyes and Loki had to hide the glee from his own.  Finally, she got it.

“So, Banner.  That’s your play.”

“What?”  He feigned surprise, but she was already taking off, determined to stop the Hulk while she could, putting herself in harms way, yes, but all it took was one cut.  One small drop of blood from her, one wrong twist of her ligaments and the game was off; they could have the Tesseract, his army, he didn’t give a damn about the whole bloody lot.  

“Oh Natasha,” he called just before she reached the door. She paused and turned on her heel, one eyebrow rising in a mixture of confusion and surprise.  She’d never heard that tone of voice from him.  Well, not this time.  “I hope to see you again, Natasha.  Very soon..”  It was a promise sealed with a searing look from Loki to the woman in front of him.  She could barely contain the shudder that rippled down her spine, and Loki smiled to watch her go.  She would understand soon enough.  

* * *

There was a loud rumble as the Hawk’s arrow blew the first engine.  Loki’s lips spread to a grin, knowing that it would be beneath the Avengers feet, and likely that they would have fallen in the crevice he could only imagine would open beneath them.  Which meant there was a chance that . . . He felt something shift, a certain weight leaving his shoulders.  His eyes became more clear, as if the sun had suddenly come back, and his grin widened further until it near hurt.  

The deal was over.

While he’d been sitting there, waiting for the bomb to go off, he had been able to come into contact with the Other, assuring the being that Natasha was indeed the woman he had sought after.  

“You are certain?” the Other had growled, clearly not liking the change in the bargain.  He had been anticipating Loki never finding her, and she’d fallen right into the trickster’s lap.

“Absolutely.  She is identical to the woman I loved.  It has to be her.”

“If you are certain.”  

It had not been long after that that the ship had shifted, and now that he knew Natasha to be injured he saw no reason to keep up his charades any further.  With ease he stood and slipped through the glass as if it were made of water, a decoy remaining in his place to keep the others from panicking.  Yet.  

As he told Natasha he would return her Hawk, and he would be none the worse off for it, ideally, though Natasha would not know it.  She would be grateful for it eventually, he knew this as he stepped through the hellicarrier.  There were few agents that were stupid enough to stand up to him, and with the simplest wave of his hand they fell asleep, dropping to the floor without so much as another word or movement.  He had no reason to kill him now that his bargain had been broken.  Natasha was being chased by the Hulk, limping on her right leg which he assumed had been hurt, when he finally found her.  He was about to call out, to stop this creature, when he recognized the familiar hum of Mjolnir.  Cloaking himself in invisibility he watched as the hammer flew through walls of metal to smash into the green giant, Thor following shortly after.  

Loki hardly breathed while Thor passed, and not till after, when Natasha had crouched into a corner, sweating and shaking, did he reveal himself.  Her eyes went wide as she watched him come closer.  Her hands were sure as she pulled a gun on him, but with the motion of his left hand it burned too hot for her to hold onto.  She hissed as she released it.  He could read the frustration on her face.

“This is all your fault,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed as she forced herself to stand.  He tried to tell her to stop but she would not listen.  His expression turned compassionate as he drew closer, but again her defiance was endearing.  It was what had made him love her all those times ago, the fact that she had been strong enough to always fight back no matter what the situation.  

“Yes.”

“Why?  Did you get what you want?  Discord?  Chaos?  Trickster.”  She spat the word as if it were a curse, and had he not gone centuries wishing to hear her voice, even if it was in such a negative tone, it might have hurt.  As it was he only smiled.

“You.”

Before she could so much as push him away he’d rushed her and grabbed her by the wrist.  They were gone within the second.  

Clint Barton and the other agents of Shield’s mind control dissipated.  The hellicarrier righted itself, and the tesseract was promptly within the possession of the Avengers once more.  

Thor was bombarded with questions the moment the team realized Loki’s absence.  Hardly a question was raised about Natasha until Barton asked for her, Phil already at his side.  

* * *

Loki had brought her to Asgard, to Frigga’s garden.  Not many would consider him audacious and brave enough to return to Asgard, and Loki was taking a risk in even bringing Natasha here but he had one glimmer of hope.  The Apples of Idun gleamed in the lazy Asgardian sun, golden and fresh and more beautiful than any other fruit of any of the nine realms.  All else was quiet, nearly motionless.  Frigga was likely gone, deep within the castle to escape the heat of the Asgardian summer day, and Odin would not come out for some time, either.  And they called him the Frost Giant.

“Loki--what the fuck are we--where the hell--what?”  Natasha couldn’t pick an expletive strong enough to assert how furious she was, and now he saw the edges of her calm facade crack to let her fury peek through.  She reached once more for her guns only to find none of them were there; he’d made sure to have left them on Midgard.  So she resorted to the only weapon she had left, attacking him with as much force as she could muster.  Each blow did nothing more than make him wince, though he imagined the pain for her hands and muscles was infinitely worse.  No matter how strong of a mortal, she was simply that: mortal.  But not for long.  Not if he had anything to say about it.  Eventually she wore herself down, seeing that she wasn’t doing any sort of serious damage and her right ankle must have been burning because she near collapsed.  Loki’s arms around her waist were the only things holding her up, and she fought furiously against that until she could not fight any longer.  Once she had calmed down (and oh Loki enjoyed her spirit so much) he moved her with slow feet to one of the many benches that were scattered around the garden.  There she curled in on herself, watching with unsure eyes as he stood in front of her, waiting for him to make the first move.  

“I am sorry for the abrupt change of scenery but I could not take the chance that you would get hurt further,” Loki said, shifting as though to move closer.  She flinched before she could catch herself and it made his heart ache.  He never meant to frighten her.  “Your friends are fine.  The tesseract is back within their possession, your Barton is back to normal--.”

“I know all your nicknames, Silvertongue.  Lie-Smith.  You think I trust a single word that passes your lips?” Natasha asked, her own voice quiet as she stared at him.  Her blue eyes practically screamed that she hated him and that was enough to keep him from advancing further.  He was going about this the wrong way, but given the circumstances, and the situation he had met her in and rescued her from it was not as though he could have simply asked her to come with him, could he?  She would have refused.  No, he would simply have to win her over by his charms.  The challenge was daunting to say the least, but it would have to be one he would rise to.  She was worth it.  

“I will not lie to you, Natasha.  I never have because it does not suit me.”

“So all that bullshit about us knowing each other--.”

“Was factual.  Thor knows of the first time that you and I were known; it was centuries ago on Midgard, when your people still worshipped my kind and we visited more frequently.  Your name was Natalia, and when you were murdered by a band of mortals I struck a bargain with the Queen of Hel to bring you back.”

Which reminded him that he had a debt to pay, but surely that could be dealt with later.  She had yet to collect, after all, and though he doubted she had forgotten he was not about to remind her.  

Natasha didn’t have to say a word to tell him that she didn’t believe a word he was saying, and if he was honest with himself he would have felt the same way had he been in her situation.  It was a strange concept, reincarnation, and not often was it heard of to bring a mortal back, but Loki had done it, and he would do it again.

“I removed you from the danger of the situation because I do not wish you harmed further.”  He said, seeking her understanding once more.  He felt as though he was groveling, begging for her to understand, and with a lack of a better word he supposed in some ways he was.  At least she was worth it.  

“So why didn’t you whisk me away the first time you saw me?” She snorted, voice derisive.  Loki shifted once more and when she did not pull away from him he took it at as a sign.  At least she was willing to listen.  With slow movements he sat down beside her, and though she was keen to stay as separate from him as she could by shirking away from any other sort of closer movements he counted it as a victory.  

“I had to complete what part of the bargain I could for those who had employed me.”  He was careful not to give too much more information.  Not that there was much she could do about it but she was a spy, after all.  He would not be surprised if she attempted to drain him for as much information as she could.  Perhaps that was the only reason she was listening to him now.  “The deal was that I would secure the tesseract for them if they gave me an army to work with; my only requirement was that you were not injured.  Once you and the Hulk had fallen and your leg was hurt, well, I owed them nothing else and could collect and bring you to safety.”

She was silent a moment.  “You tricked them.”

“It was more or less a well-assured bet.”

“And my team?”

“As I told you they are safe and in possession of the tesseract.  How they deal with the power from then on is not my concern nor my care.  I care only for you.”  He reached out one hand to stroke her cheek and she hissed as she pulled away.

“Don’t you Asgardians have concepts of courting?  I thought pulling women away from their lives was more of a Greek thing,” she growled, shifting to the very edge of the bench, hell bent on putting as much space between them as possible.  “I mean--you can’t think this is going to work.  You kidnapped me.”  

“When you put it that way--.”

“There’s no other way to put it, Loki.  Now, take me back now and I’ll agree to give your proposal a thought.  I need to be with my team.”

Loki’s laugh bubbled up from some hysterical pocket within his chest.  Her team?  Truly?  “What team is that?  Your Barton and your Handlers?  You truly consider the others a part of your team as of the moment?  No, I think there has never been less trust among them.  Especially of your Barton now.”  

Her eyes flashed and she reached out to strike the side of his face.  “That is your fault.”

He didn’t retaliate though the side of his face burned.  He only stared at her.  “Yes, it likely is.”  

“No--there’s nothing likely about it!  Now, take me back or I will find someone who will!”  Her voice had risen and Loki admitted to feeling fear that they might be discovered.  He schooled his features, however, keeping his expression to that of light amusement.  She thought herself powerful?  He admired it, her naivety was nearly adorable but misplaced.  

“There is no way that you can get back without my assistance.  No others can pick at the seams of the realms save me, and until Thor returns with the tesseract there is no relic with enough force to return you to Midgard.  I am afraid you have no choice but to remain here until Thor returns with the tesseract.  That will likely be three days.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get away from you.”  She was on her feet and with quicksilver reflexes he reached out to catch her wrist.  She was just as fast, knocking his hand away from hers and driving the butt of her hand into his nose.  He was sure that the cracking he heard was not his own nose and her muffled cry of pain as she pulled away was enough to tell him he was right.  A quiet sigh left his lips and he reached out to her hand.  A healing stone would take care of this.  

“Sit down and allow me to heal you, please,” he murmured, standing to look about the garden.  Frigga had always kept them in the gardens since Loki and Thor were young, the two brothers having been fond of running around the peaceful place.  While scraped knees and faces were nothing to a pair of demigods it had made his mother feel better to have them nearby.  

Natasha watched Loki move with an unsure gaze, he could practically feel it on his back, and when he returned with two small stones he urged her to spread out her injured leg as well.  Might as well kill two birds with one stone as the mortals said, or something like that.  Beneath his palm the stones disintegrated, the dust sinking into her skin.  A murmur of surprise left her lips as he was sure the pain had begun to disappear, and when he looked up into her eyes her expression was that of thinly veiled surprise.

“Anyway I can get a couple cases of those?”  She asked after he’d finished healing.  He allowed himself a chuckle.

“Perhaps.  Now, might we continue this like a civilized pair?”

Her once happy expression faltered a little.  “Don’t call us that.”

“A pair?”

“It insinuates we are together.”

“Why, we are together,” he smirked.

“You know what I mean, Loki.  You fixed the physical mistakes that you created, nothing more.  This doesn’t mean I trust you or even like you.  It means you cleared that small, insignificant portion of your debt.”

His expression twisted and he felt a little bit of his old self peeking through, all fun and tricks and mischief.  “Why Natasha?  I cannot fathom why you would ever make anything easy on me.”

He offered her his hand to bring her inside but she pushed it away, rising instead to her now steady feet to follow him. ‘ Let the games begin,’ he thought as he led her out, taking a quick detour to grab one of the apples he had been admiring before.  He tossed it to Natasha.  

“Hold that for me, will you?”

She wouldn’t be able to resist defiling something she thought he wanted, and he turned away as he heard her bite into it.  Excellent.

* * *

“Why are they gold?” Natasha asked, making her way through her third apple of the past two days.  Loki understood the effect they had on mortals, which was perhaps what made them so dangerous and tempting.  They would be like nothing she had even eaten before, perfectly sweet and crisp and scented so sweet it was enough to make one’s knees weak.  He just looked up from his own meal he had conjured for the pair of them.  She hadn’t touched the food he had given her, likely too worried he had laced it with a spell, and so she sunk her teeth once more into the ripe flesh of the fruit.  

“They are the apples of Idun,” Loki said.  “Though the color I suppose is a testament to that which they derived from.  In case you have not noticed it is a common color here.”  He smiled as he waved around to the small hall they were eating in where Loki was certain they would not be disturbed.  The advantage, he supposed, to having lived here for so long was how predictable everything still was.  He knew where would be empty, where would be busiest and therefore most pertinent for them to avoid, and even should the sameness be broken he was confident that he would be able to detect an intruder before they made it close enough to raise any sort of alarm.  

“So if you think you’re separate from the Asgardians why do you still wear it?”  Natasha’s eyes were challenging when she met his.  He paused, goblet of mead halfway up to his lips as he considered it.  

“An excellent question,” he finally murmured, taking a deep drink from his goblet.  She didn’t press the question, just sunk her teeth into what remained of the apple and reached for another.  

* * *

 From the balcony she could see nearly everything, and for once she let her surprise show in the way her mouth hung open, her eyes went wide, and her silence went unbroken.  She had asked to see the whole of the kingdom, likely hoping that someone would recognize Loki and their days together would be cut short, and so he had offered her the balcony in Odin’s chamber to stare out at the vast realm.  It was a risk, yes, but it was a better one to take than to take the chance of letting her stroll through the city, especially when she could be so slippery and get away from him so easily.  Besides, walking within the city did not afford one the beautiful view of the sun bouncing off of the golden arches and towers, the way the rainbow bridge shone in the light of the day while seeming to give off a light of its own.  There were men working on the reconstruction of the Bifrost at the very end and Loki felt a pang of guilt at the memory.  He’d never gotten to make up for that.  

“It’s gorgeous,” she murmured, her hands gripping the balcony railing as she leaned a little further, a little closer to the spectacle.  Loki’s attention was drawn a little closer to home, focusing instead on the way the light played on her face, making it come alive, how her hair looked as if it would burn him if he came too close, on the first genuine smile he’d seen on her face (and how he wished it was directed at him), on the way her eyes burned with curiosity and longing and he’d tipped her head towards his before he could stop himself, planting his lips on hers in the gentlest of kisses.  He’d caught her by surprise, he was sure, but even after the surprise had passed she didn’t pull away.  Nor did she flinch or retreat when he ever-so slowly moved one hand to bury in her hair, trying not to make her feel as though she was anchored to him but never wanting her to pull away.  She was so soft against him; had he not been locking his knees he might have fallen to them, either from the tenderness of the kiss or from his heart bursting.  One of her hand ghosted to his shoulder, hesitated for a moment, then pushed him away.  

“Loki.”  Her voice was a warning laced in lust, breathless and iron-strong at the same time.  Amazing.  Her eyes stared up into his, confusion both at his actions and her own, but before either could say a word there were footsteps that Loki had not heard a moment ago.  Cursing quietly he tugged her deeper into the room and behind the curtains that normally close in front of the balcony.  They were long enough and thick enough to hide them so long as neither moved or said a word.  Loki’s eyes pleaded with Natasha as he pulled her close to him to do neither, and after what felt like a millennia she gave the curtest of nods and lowered her head onto his chest, allowing his arms to wrap around her.  He could do minimal magic, to mask the noise of their breathing, and after some time the footsteps receded and the door shut behind them.  Only then did he let out a breath of relief.  His arms didn’t unwind themselves from around his love until she pulled away minutes later.  

“Take me somewhere else,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze for the first time.  

He would take that, and the way her heart had thudded against his chest, as if trying to escape and meet his own, as a good sign.  

She bit into another apple he’d brought for her as he led the way to the library.  

* * *

By the third day she had consumed six apples in total, polishing off her last by the time Thor came back.  The god had burst into Loki’s room before the sorcerer could even fathom what was going on, taking the pair of them by surprise.  They’d been pouring over one of the books Natasha had taken a liking to, intrigued by its folk stories, and Loki was in the middle of translating one for her when the doors opened and Thor stood, huffing and furious and confused, in the entrance.  Two sets of confused eyes rose to meet him but his eyes were focused on the book, then the apple core that Natasha was holding onto, catching the glimmer of gold from the very top that Natasha had not managed to get to.  His eyes narrowed when they returned to his brother.

“Loki, do not tell me you have done--.”

“I did nothing.”

“What?  What’s going on?  Hi, Thor--you’ve come to take me back, right?”  She smiled and rose to stand from Loki’s bed.  The sorcerer did nothing to stop her and based on Thor’s expression the thunderer knew exactly what Loki had done.  He let out a low breath.  Natasha would find out soon enough, but as it was she needed to return.  She had spent too much time in the lazy confines of Asgard and the others on Earth were worried beyond belief.  

“You are not hurt, my lady?  My brother did not . . .”

“I would never do that.”  Loki’s gaze darkened.  How dare Thor even suggest it?  Slowly he rose to his feet to stand in front of the spy and the demigod, the pair of them looking at him, though Natasha’s gaze a little more fond.  If only a little.  

“No, Thor.  Loki didn’t force me to do anything I did not want.”  

That only made Thor more infuriated.  With one finger pointed at the dark haired man he warned him not to go anywhere.  There was still justice to be meted out, and Thor would chase him down if it came to that.  Loki did not doubt it, but Thor could not terrify him any mother.  Natasha could not die--not while she had eaten the apples of immortality and youth.  And what was more every six months . . . well, she would see soon enough.  He could hardly wait.  

As Natasha and Thor left the spy was a chatter, as if her previous pretences and worries had been dissolved from her mind, though the focus of many of her questions was the team.  She was concerned primarily for Clint, of course, and Loki felt his heart twinge in the most unpleasant of ways.  No matter; she could worry all she wanted but the archer was safe, at least from Loki.  What the other humans did, well, was not Loki’s concern.  

* * *

“Loki, is this accusation true?” Odin demanded from his seat.  Again it was just the family within the throne room, the Allfather not wishing his son’s embarrassment to reach the civilians of Asgard.  Frigga was present this time, having told Odin exactly what she thought of his previous punishment to her son the first time around, and even now she was standing at his side, her hand clasped to his.  He squeezed hers.  

“Yes.  I allied myself with the Other but our bargain was declared null and void when the Lady Natasha Romanov was injured.  I then brought her here to prevent further injury to her, returned her team members and the tesseract to Shield, and whilst she was here I allowed her to eat six of Idun’s apples.  I believe you have all the facts, or did you simply miss the sound of my voice, father?”  He asked, unable to stop the snark from leaving his lips.  Frigga squeezed his hand, a warning not to test the Allfather.  Odin hardly flinched.  

“Why?”

“Because I love her.”

“You hardly know her.”

“Does one need to know another exclusively to declare themselves in love?  Did not Thor fall in love with a mortal after meeting her for three days while exiled on Midgard as well?”  Loki asked, tilting his head in defiance as he stared at Thor.  “Do you not love your Jane Foster?”

Thor was silent, eyes set to the ground.  After a moment’s silence: “Father, Loki has proven his point.”

“And yet to force the woman you seem to love to reside with you for three days--.”

“To keep her from the chaos I believe the world still rampant with.  Would you not retrieve those you love from all danger if given the opportunity?”

Again, Frigga squeezed his hand, but Loki pressed on.  “I am willing to accept what punishment you see fit to give me, father, as I always have, but please reexamine the facts.  I did not force Natasha to eat the golden apples, she ate those herself. I  brought her here to heal and keep safe.  I returned the tesseract as Thor had said you demanded, and I righted what mortals I have wronged.  Where, now, lies my blame?”  

“What have you to say of the destruction of the Bifrost and the attempted genocide of Jotunheim?”

Ah.  He’d nearly forgotten he’d yet to suffer for that little slip up, though truth be told he would not have altered his actions.  He very much believed his wyrd had been set the first moment he’d laid eyes on Natalia and vowed to do anything and everything for her.  He always would, even if that meant obliterating others so he could avenge her.  Surely his Natasha would understand that now?  His lips twisted into a small smile that did not go unnoticed by the Allfather.

“You smile at your actions?”

“No, apologies Allfather, my thoughts had turned elsewhere.”  He admitted, voice smooth and apologetic.  “But I have already said I will meet what punishment you seek fit as I always have done.  I offer as my reasoning behind my lack of judgement was that I had simply loved too fiercely and allowed said affection to cloud my decision making abilities.  I apologize.”

* * *

Of course an apology was not nearly enough, but the Allfather had been . . . merciful to say the least.  Loki’s great punishment was that he was forced to rebuild the bridge on his own, using only his magic, and while it may not have seemed a great feat he was astounded by just how much power and concentration it took to fashion the rainbow bridge.  That was saying nothing of the Bifrost itself.  Heimdall watched him work, silent as ever, with blank gold eyes that saw all yet revealed nothing.  Loki might have found it unnerving if not for what he knew was coming afterwards.  Five more months and Natasha would be back, drawn by the need to replenish her body’s newfound love for the golden apples, and for six months the magic would require her to stay on Asgard.  Loki had been allowed to stay as well, another mercy of the Allfather, though his magic would be bound for those six months.  

“If you truly love her,” the Allfather had stated, his eye alight with surprise?--amusement?--dare he say, hope?  “Then you will prove it to her without the aid of your magic tricks or potions.  You will have your wits and your personality to woo her with, naught else.  From what Thor tells me of the Lady Natasha it is an excellent thing the pair of you are immortal; I cannot expect it will be an easy task.”  

That Loki knew to be an understatement, but when had he ever shirked from a challenge?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finally got this bad boy out. Sorry it took so long--but it's finally here! The next two updates may take a little time, too, as I've got exams coming up, so Chapters 4 and 5 may not be out until May when school is [finally] done!  
> Thank you everyone who's read this story and a special thanks to everyone who've commented. Your support is amazing and so inspiring and more than I could've asked for, so thank you again.


	4. The Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty folks--this is the chapter that earns the M rating for the story. If you are uncomfortable with that it comes in near the end and I've sectioned it off . . . ish. Sorry.  
> Also, I regret to inform you that this is the last chapter. What comes next will be an epilogue, so gird your loins my friends.  
> I'm really, really sad to be done with this, I'm not going to lie. It's been a hell of a ride and where I thought I'd be taking forever in between writing it it's all gone on so fast.  
> Thank you all for your support, and I hope you love this chapter! I will do my best to get the epilogue out ASAP!

The six months Loki waited for Natasha were spent fixing the Bifrost and the rainbow bridge, as was his penance for his crimes against the transportational system and the realm.  Thor was anxious to see it fixed, sure that the Avengers would need him while they waited for the repairs to be made, and each day he dogged Loki to ask how much longer he would be made to wait.  Loki suspected after the first few times that Thor was simply looking for something to talk about; the brothers had said little to one another since Loki had returned, permanently, to Asgard, and perhaps this was Thor’s way of trying to bring things back to the way it was.  Loki admired his tenacity, that was certain, though most days his answers were short, to the point, and he left before the blond man could try and coax another answer from his lips.  Thor always watched him go with the same saddened look, as though he were a pup whose favorite toy was taken away.  Loki imagined it was likely the first time in his life he’d not gotten what he wanted, or at least it was recently, and any pity he might have felt disappeared.  

One day the blond man cornered him, though, smiling as he offered Loki something on a napkin. Hot, likely fresh from the ovens of the Asgardian kitchen, was a fruit tart just like the ones they used to steal as children.  A peace offering.  In the past any time Thor had hurt Loki in the practice ring, or messed up one of his spells, or gotten the younger boy into trouble, he’d brought his brother one of these as his way of apologizing.  Of asking forgiveness.  Loki’s eyes turned up to look at Thor, wide with the realization that his brother still remembered after all of those centuries ago.  

“I miss my brother.”  Thor said after a few more moments of silence.  With a steadiness that surprised Loki he extended his hand to take the pastry from his brother, and with his other hand on his brother’s back Loki led him up the bridge back to the palace.  This didn’t mean he forgave him, but he wasn’t about to turn down a sweet.  Thor knew that far too well.  

“How have you been, truly?” Thor asked, concern etched in the corners of his eyes and lips, taking advantage of Loki’s better mood.  It was like staring into a younger, two-eyed version of the Allfather if Loki was honest with himself, and he wondered how he’d never seen the differences before, how’d he been completely blindsided by Odin’s revelation.  

“Did Frigga send you?” Loki asked, avoiding the question.  

“No, brother.  I came by myself, of my own volition.”

“Oh, big words Thor.” Loki teased, allowing himself to crack a smile.  Thor’s shoulders jostled with his laugh, blue eyes mirth-filled when they turned to look at his companion.  

“It has been known to happen.  Please do not avoid the question.”  

How in Hel’s name did he answer what Thor had asked?  By the Norns he didn’t even know how he was feeling.  Talking had always been Loki’s strong point, but now?  After what had happened and what he had done, Thor just expected him to be able to open up, as if they’d just returned from a hunting party and all was back to the way it had been?

It could never be.  Would never be.  Not exactly at least.  Thor seemed to pick up on this for his hand reached down to clench Loki’s shoulder, turning the thin man to face him. “Brother do not think that my perception of you has changed.  We all make mistakes but that does not make you any less my kin for it, nor does the truth of your parentage make you less my brother, or my friend.”  He clenched his hand, squeezing hard and Loki nearly choked at the second familiar gesture.  

“Thor--.”

“No, it is my turn to speak, Loki.  Once you told me to never doubt that you loved me, well, now I ask the same of you.  No matter what happens you are my brother--through blood or bond it matters not, only that I will not have you from my side.  There is no other man I would have by my side, through the end of the world and what else may come before it.”  

Loki didn’t know what to say.

He legitimately did not have a word left in his vocabulary that could fit the situation, nor were any coming to him.  What was one supposed to say to such a . . . could it be called anything but a declaration?  All these questions ran through his mind in a hurry until he had to take a deep breath to try and clear his mind as a whole.  Thor didn’t move from his spot, watching as his brother processed it all, and with a flush rising on his cheeks Loki was sure he’d just broadcasted his entire argument with himself.  He was getting sloppy.  

“So what you are telling me,” Loki started after swallowing down the lump in his throat and staring at his brother.  “Is that my brother has gone completely missing and all I’m stuck with is some emotional sap to try and take his place?”  

Thor’s eyes widened at first, mouth falling open to refute that, but with a laugh from Loki--the first honest one he’d had in some time--his indignation melted away.  His arm moved to wrap around his brother’s neck and he snorted.  “I can still throw you off the bridge.  Do not tempt me, brother.”

“Oh, and allow me another attempt to escape and cause havoc?  You would not dare.”  

They walked back joking and teasing one another, Loki biting into the pastry as Thor filled him in on how the team worked and what had happened in the wake of Natasha and Loki’s sudden absence.  The pastry tasted of home and all good things, helping the sorcerer take in what Thor was telling him.  The good Captain and his Man of Iron were able to get the Helicarrier back in the air with only minor damage to themselves, and the Hulk had been shuttled back to Earth where he could deal with his anger issues away from all the others.  There were only a few casualties, but the agents who had been taken over had fully recovered.  All save Barton, apparently, who had pitched what could only be called a fit and had demanded that he be taken to Asgard himself to deal with Loki.  

“He has it out for you, and once Natasha and he learn of her six month limit--.”

“I am aware.  They are partners and he is most protective of her.  It will be an experience to be certain.”

Thor stopped his brother just outside the palace entrance, his expression serious.  “You are certain this Natasha, that she is worth it.  Yes?  That all of this struggle and discomfort that you are about to put her through--you want to deal with that, and to force that on her?”

Loki licked his lips, considering it.  He had a point, and on Loki knew it.  He’d been arguing for and against within his mind ever since he’d made the decision to trick her into eating the first apple.  It was selfish, and it was sly.  She’d hate him at first for it of this he was certain.  But her safety and her company, at least for half of a year, would be worth it.  For him.  

For her?  He would have to make it worth her while. After all what did Midgard have that Asgard didn’t?  

“You may call me dramatic but I mean it when I say I will not live through watching her die another time.  I will go down to join her in Hel if I must.”  Loki said, his voice dropping an octave in his seriousness.  He meant it, too, having thought it over more times than he cared to admit, wondering how much easier this all would have been if he’d done it in the first place.  But it didn’t do to dwell on the past, he’d learned that.  Nothing good came of it.  

“This selfish behavior is not like you, my brother.”

“I know. I’ve taken a page out of your book,” Loki smirked, fist playfully knocking into Thor’s chest plate.  The thunderer chuckled.  He patted Loki on the back before opening the door.  Odin and Frigga were both waiting for them, seated at the head of the dining room table, lunch already served to the pair.  Frigga stood to greet her boys, grinning and pulling them individually into her arms.  She and Loki had many a time taken lunch in his room, the sorcerer refusing to eat with the rest of the family, but after what Thor and Loki had gone through, well, he supposed he could try to make amends.  

“I am glad that you are both here,” Frigga said, urging them to sit before she took her own seat once more.  Odin surveyed his sons with a steady eye.  

“Thank you mother,” Thor said, his mug of mead already filled and waiting for him.  He drank from it deeply as Loki requested simply water.  No need to press his luck, though Frigga rolled her eyes at the gesture.  She always had a knack for knowing when the trickster was doing his best and from across the table her smile was understanding.  They ate mostly in silence, Thor breaking it to ask Odin how the other realms were doing, how negotiations were going with Alfheim and the like.  It felt . . . normal, as though nothing had changed, for Loki to be sitting there with them.  So much for his assumptions that things could not return to some semblance of how they were.  It settled his nerves, and for once he was glad to find himself mistaken.  

“Loki, how go the repairs of the Bifrost?” Odin asked, turning to his youngest.  

“They are going well.  The building and bridge should be finished by the end of the month at the very latest.”  Leaving him a few weeks to get ready for Natasha to come back.  He asked about how that was going to work, since she had no choice but to come up, and Odin’s face tightened slightly.  

“For six months she will be given a room and freedom around the majority of the castle, with the obvious only restrictions being the throne room and the war room.  Other than that the realm is hers to explore.  If she keeps eating the apples of Idun then she will turn wholly immortal, and I expect you to leave that decision to her, not for you to trick her into.”  His gaze turned stern and Loki swallowed.  Of course.  If Odin was this angry, well, he could only imagine how Natasha was going to react. He could only hope she would learn to love it there before she killed him.  

* * *

Killing him was about the only thing on her mind when she came up to at the beginning of her six months.  She’d been complaining of stomach cramps and the like since the end of the month according to Thor, who was now able to travel via the newly rebuilt Bifrost and had checked up on her on the many times he’d been called back to Midgard on Avenger duty.  Apparently having a Norse god was more handy than most of them had thought, and he’d brought back Natasha after his last trip.  When she arrived she was nauseous from traveling on the Bifrost but once her eyes had set on Loki, waiting for the pair of them at the entrance, her sickness turned to fury.  

“You.” She growled, eyes flashing as she tried to step towards him.  Her feet faltered, unaccustomed to walking after having been, essentially, transported from one planet to the next, and Thor caught her much to her own displeasure.  “I’m fine--let me go!” She shouted, pushing him off of her.  

“Take your time, you need to adjust,” Loki murmured, taking a step closer.  His mistake.  He was within range and she wasn’t holding anything back, launching herself at him and tackling him to the ground.  Her forearm pressed against his throat as she glared down at him.  

“You sad sack of shit--what the fuck do you think you’re doing making me come here again?” She snarled, glaring down at him with disgust and pure disbelief in her eyes.  He didn’t fight back, which confused her even as she pressed down harder against his windpipe.  He could practically read her expectations in her eyes and he smiled up at her instead.  

“I’m making you safe.”

“I’m an Avenger--I don’t need to be safe!” She yelled in his face, drawing back her fist so it could connect with his fist.  She swore at that; his bones would have been stronger than she’d expected. “I can fight my own damn battles and I don’t care what might have happened in the past but I don’t need you looking out for me!  I thought I made that clear!”

“You did, my darling, but you were the one who ate the golden apples of Idun.”  

Natasha’s eyes narrowed and her lips turned upwards in a snarl as she pushed herself off of him.  “I hate you--and don’t call me darling!”

He felt his heart break at her first statement  He could only hope that he would have the time to prove her wrong and that she wouldn’t immediately write him off for trying.  She seemed to have regained control of her feet and looking to Thor she asked him--pointedly him--to show her to her room.  Thor’s face was apologetic as he looked from Loki to Natasha, but ended up siding with the red-headed woman.  Loki couldn’t blame him, he thought, as he got to his feet and followed them to where the horses had been left at the front of the Bifrost.  She didn’t say a word to him throughout the whole ride back to Asgard, turning her conversation instead to Thor, who was more than happy to fill her in on what the apples were.  In short it elevated her abilities both physical and mental, allowed her to heal.  Gave her the youth and immortality of the Aesir.  They were normally reserved for mortals who had done something exceptional, deserving the favor of the gods.  The only drawback was that she would need to spend a significant amount of time on Asgard else it would cause her body to violently react as it had before.  

“Stomach cramps, as you described them, were just the beginning.  Staying away from Asgard will kill you if you press the matter,” Thor told her.  

Natasha’s gaze was murderous as she stared back at Loki, breaking her silence to growl: “You couldn’t have warned me?”

Loki didn’t say a word, reading not only her anger at him but her embarrassment for being caught off guard by having eaten.  She mumbled something about “damn Persephone” and they continued on in silence.  Loki was familiar with the Grecian tale and tried not to smile.  Yes, he supposed that was an tale for the situation she had placed herself.  She’d thought herself safer not eating the food that Loki had provided her and had ended up like the Greek goddess of western myth.  

Thor showed her to where her room would be, close to his and Loki’s, which he also pointed out, and left the pair of them after that.  Nat shot one last look at Loki before disappearing into her room.  The sorcerer caught the door before it shut behind her.  

“Leave me alone,” she ordered him, twisting her head back to glare at him.  He didn’t.  

“Natasha all I am asking for is a chance to explain myself.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Loki!  You dragged me up here the first time around and I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to be around you.  I should try and kill you for that!”  She had turned to face him now, but Loki stood his ground.  He was not about to give up, not now that he had her here.  

“You could certainly try.  I imagine you would get the closest any non-Aesir has ever gotten, but it is difficult to end our lives.  Just as difficult as it will be now to end yours.  Do you not have everything a human has ever wanted?” He asked, pleading with her.  

She rolled her eyes and sat on the bed, her glare returning immediately as she took him in.  “I don’t.  I’ve had enough of living for a long time--I don’t want immortality, so take it away and give it to someone else.”

“I cannot.”

“Then you are useless to me.  Get.  Out.”  

But he didn’t leave, not yet, not wanting to give her the opportunity to--well, he didn’t know what, but he wasn’t sure that being alone would suit Natasha.  Not like that, not then or in that temperament. “Would you at least allow me to explain?”

She gave a hoarse laugh.  “Explain?  What is there to explain?  You say you love me, bring me here, don’t tell me to keep away from the damn apples, and now six months out of a year I have to be here.  With you!  Or I die.  But wait, it gets even better!  Even if I do die your damn daughter brings me back because, apparently, I can’t be allowed to die.”  Her smile was too wide for her face, the same sort as the kind Loki would shoot Thor when the oaf had said something stupid.  “Tell me, Loki, have I left anything out?”

“No.”  His voice was quiet for the moment.  “But will you allow me to explain why?”

She paused, considering it as her previous retort had died in her throat.  He hoped the intrigue would pique her interest, but she just shook her head.  “Another day.  Maybe.  Good evening, Loki.”  

“Good evening, Natasha,” he mirrored.  Her tone was quiet, almost defeated, and it told him that enough was enough for that day.  He didn’t dare press his luck, no matter whether or not he wanted her to be alone at that time, and as he closed the door behind him he considered sending Frigga up to talk to Natasha, or one of the other shield maidens of Asgard.  Certainly they would have something to talk about.  He hoped.  

No, he would give her time to lick her wounds and to recuperate.  He would give her peace, and he would give her space for then.  All the while she enjoyed these comforts he would plan, and scheme, and formulate a foolproof way to win over her heart, to woo her as he never had before and never would again.  He had six months to get her to love him, or at least tolerate his presence, and then six months more to work after that.  It would have to work; he would have to make it work.  

* * *

As he’d promised he gave her some time alone in the following week.  Perhaps fondness would make her heart grow fonder of him.  It was a small hope he clung to as he tried to devise a plan that would allow her to see that he was not the villain.  He thought perhaps he would ask her out for an afternoon, unsure what customs were on Midgard when it came to courting, but from what he had picked up in his limited experience a “date” was generally a good place to start.  How strange a term for such a simple outing, but if that was what Natasha was expecting then it was what he would give her.  Within his mind he’d compiled a list of what he knew she liked, having looked back on the information that Barton provided him with.  Now that he knew who she was, it turned out the archer had given him much information about her personal life.  Perhaps in a subconscious effort to try and keep Loki from the important information, which he’d gotten anyway.  She was fond of chocolate, as most women seemed to be, and of course she had a penchant for fighting and practicing.  As he’d spent time away from her he’d caught her and Sif sparring, the latter thrilled to find another partner that was female.  Even with their age and experience differences Loki was pleased to see Natasha keeping up with the raven-haired warrioress in front of her.  Their sparring match had ended not long after that, the pair of them noticing Loki’s curious eyes.  Neither of them held a love for the sorcerer, and with hushed murmurs and glares back at him they vanished back into the recesses of the palace.  He didn’t mind.  

He was pleased to find that she preferred to read as opposed to spend her time in front of what the mortals had called a television (apparently this was often a sore point between Natasha and the archer when their time was spent in a hotel room; she wished for silence while he wanted to entertain himself) and each morning he took it upon himself to provide her with a new book, left in pristine condition outside her door.  From around the corner he watched as she’d opened the door, look around in surprise, then pick up the book.  It would always end up in her hands when she curled up in the newly discovered library, or else he’d see her carrying it under her arm throughout the day as she moved to sit outside and read.  She only did this on the days where the sun was veiled with clouds, leading him to believe she was no fan of sunlight.  It always brought him some pleasure to see her with one of his recommendations, however, especially when she was surrounded by other books she could have easily swapped out.  She never did.  

As it turned out she had a special fondness for the rain.  While the others would head inside to avoid the storms and torrential rains that came around every so often Natasha actively sought it out.  It was midway through the week when Loki noticed this, having been surprised at her absence from the library that he began to look elsewhere.  Her laughter was what caught his attention first, and from the window of his study he could see her grinning and talking to Thor, who stood under the protection of a building, gazing fondly at her.  Loki’s heart tightened.  

“What, afraid to get your pretty blond hair wet?” Natasha had teased the thunderer.  

“Of course not.  Storms are my favorite but only when I control them.”  He smiled, stepping out into the water with her.  He clapped his hands once and the sky was shot through with lightning.  Moments later a momentous boom followed.  Natasha complimented him, grinning, hair sticking to her face as she urged him to go out running or riding with her.  Thor didn’t think that was such a good idea, but when she proposed an impromptu sparring match (and called his honor into question) not even Thor could refuse.  

Natasha had picked up several tricks from Sif, Loki was surprised to see, leaning to watch through the window as she slid and ducked, avoiding the blows aimed at her midsection, stomach, and face as though they were shown to her moments before.  Loki supposed that she had fought beside (and possibly against) Thor in the past, but it was something to see someone else present such a challenge for his normally so boisterous brother, always successful in battle.  Until now, it seemed.  

In the end it had to be called an impasse; they were both so slippery and exhausted that even when they did get a hold of the other they lost it and were too tired to regain it.  Loki had met up with them as they came back in, and Natasha had been in a good enough mood that she’d even spared him a small smile.  

He would have to convince Thor to make it storm more often.  

* * *

“May I sit with you?”  He picked his words carefully, framing the question with a tone to suggest that he truly wants her company but didn’t want to be a burden.  She didn’t react at first, seated in Frigga’s garden, staring blankly at the trees.  Well, likely one tree.  Eventually she tilted her head down, then up, and Loki let out a quiet breath of air he was holding as he seats himself beside her.  

It had been nearly a month since she’d been up here.  He’d been courteous in not flaunting his presence, only showing up at meal times and in passing conversation.  She’d been receptive towards that, or at least as receptive as she could be.  One of the things he loved about her was that he could never wholly read her.  She was always an intrigue, a mystery to be unraveled bit by bit until she would hopefully open up to him.  That would require an immense amount of trust, this he knew based on Barton’s experiences, but he was a patient man when it mattered, and this mattered very much to him.  

“Do you think Frigga would get mad if I just hacked that tree down?” Natasha asked, confirming Loki’s assumption of her staring at the tree that had started all of her problems.  

Loki’s chuckle was quiet.  “I daresay she might be.  The apples are the best way we can retain our youthfulness, our own immortality.  There are more than just Frigga who would be rather put off if you chopped it down.”  

Whatever Natasha was thinking she kept it to herself for some time.  He watched her shoulders finally relax, her whole body having been stiff as she sat beside him, and after a few more moments of silence between them she turned to meet Loki’s gaze.  

“Did you know that I already had aging . . . issues?” She asked, voice quiet.  “From when you took over Barton’s mind.  I know that you got most of your information from him.”  Her eyes were searching his, daring him to tell her that was a lie.  He didn’t. “No one else knows that I love occult romance mysteries except Clint.”  

Ah, well, he’d blown that one pretty quickly.  

“No, I did not.”  Loki admitted, his voice quiet as he took her in.  The garb of an Asgardian suited her well; the metalwork of the dress breastplate was ornate, delicate and beautiful yet he knew it would defend her well, and while he didn’t think he’d ever see her in a skirt she wore the full, deep red gown well.  She looked as though she belonged in Asgard.  

‘She does.  She belongs at my side.’  He couldn’t help himself from thinking it, and was grateful she couldn’t read his thoughts.  

“When I heard my husband had died I volunteered myself to be injected with a super soldier serum,” Natasha started, her voice quiet but strong, demanding Loki’s attention (though he bristled at the husband comment.  How had Barton failed to mention that?)  “And of all the test subjects I was one of the few that survived.  Now, they didn’t have it as perfect as the original that went into Steve Rogers to make him, well, Steve, but they got some bits of it right.  Like the fact that I would hardly age, I don’t usually get sick, and I recover pretty damn fast for a human.  I’m still mortal--or I was--but I’m a lot tougher to kill.”  She sighed, hands beginning to twist in her lap as she stared down at them, bunching the fabric gently.  “I’d made peace with out living most of my teammates, figuring that was just the way it was.  I knew I’d die eventually, but I’d hoped it would be when I was well . . . well over a hundred years old.  I just celebrated my eighty-third birthday.”  She shot Loki a small smile, a sad one.  He reached out a hand to lay it on her shoulder and she froze up when he touched her, then relaxed, allowing it.  

“You do not look it,” he murmured.

Her laugh was a joy to his ears.  “Such a flatterer.”  She teased.  “But I always thought I’d go out with my guns blazing, on some mission to help my team.  I had no plan of outliving my team mates by much, especially not Clint, or Tony.  But this . . . now that I’m, well, whatever I am.  That’s not going to happen.  You won’t let it.”  She looked up at him, her blue eyes accusing him of allowing her to live longer.  What might have been every mortals dream was exactly what she had been trying to avoid, already having had a taste of it.  He could practically feel the waves of resentment as they rolled off of her and threatened to suffocate him, forcing him to pull his hand back away from her.  “What I’m trying to tell you, Loki, is that I’m sorry that you wanted me to be someone or something I clearly am not.  I’m sorry you lost what might’ve looked like me, but you don’t know me.  You have no idea who I am, what I do, and you saw fit to bring me here and through an exclusion of information to trap me here.  That doesn’t say love to me, Loki.  That says you’re doing exactly what the men who taught me in the Red Room did.”  Her eyes hardened as they stared at him and he swallows hard, uncomfortable in her gaze.  “And yet you wonder why I cannot stand to be around you.”

What in the nine realms could he say to that?  He hoped this tongue-tied behavior wasn’t becoming a habit, and his mind struggled to come up with an answer, to somehow refute what she had said.  How could he?  So he didn’t bother trying, instead asking her if she would permit him to speak his own case.  She allowed it, shifting her body ever-so slightly so she was facing him.  He could read the curiosity in her eyes, glad for it.  At least she wasn’t as angry, seeming to have come to peace with it.  

“I am sure I seem very much a pampered prince to you,” he started with an embarrassed chuckle.  In comparison to the life that she’d lived he was certain his past would hardly seem terrible, and that wasn’t what he was setting out to do.  “One who talks in circles until I get my way, and up until a couple hundred years ago I admit that I was that way.  There was no argument or discussion I could not talk my way out of.  Until I met you, or rather Natalia.  I am sorry if I offend you by calling you one and the same; I do understand you to be two separate people, though your souls are the same.”  Deep down she was the woman he had fallen in love with.  She shrugged it away.  

“It’s how you know me, apparently.  I’ve come to terms with the idea that you’re in love with a fantasy me, not the real me.  You can’t love who I am, only who you think I am, because you don’t know me, Loki.”

He nodded, understanding all too well what she said because he’d fought with himself over the same idea.  “When I met Natalia for the first time she was not in the best of situations, resorting to sell her body in order to put food on the table.  I offered her my cloak, and after some time my protection and my affection.  I offered her money and took nothing for myself in return and while I was constantly asked by my brother why, I knew only that I had fallen in love.  We’d hardly known one another and I had loved her more dearly than just about any other woman I had ever met.”  His chuckle was humorless.  “And yet, as you have pointed out I knew little to nothing about her either.  Only that I wanted to care for her, to keep her from the harms of the world.  And I failed to do that.”  He swallowed hard, the realization sticking in his throat, threatening to choke him.  “And when I demanded my daughter return you she told me that it would take time, and that you would not remember who I was.  I did not care.  I had failed to keep you safe one time before, though I had promised you my protection many a time, I was not about to allow it to happen again.  But it did.  Time and time again you were ripped from me, either before I could get to you and keep you safe or after I had met you once more and, well, fell harder than I thought possible.  When the next opportunity came and I met you again I had struck a bargain, as I told you, with the Other.  You were to remain safe while I took the tesseract, and if that in any way changed then I was to go free.  You know the story from there, but I suppose what I am trying to say is that I brought you here to keep you safe because I had failed so many times at managing to protect you.  I did what I thought best, and while you may not believe that you need protection, has there never been someone for which you would do anything to keep safe?”  He asked.  Her head was tilted down towards the cobblestoned path, digging the toe of her shoe into the dirt that surrounded it.  

“You know there was.”

“No, I do not.”  He murmured.  “Barton had not told me everything.”  

She looked up at him and he took her silence as a cue to keep going.  “But I would like to if you would be so kind as to tell me more about your life.  You are right in saying that I know little about you, but if you would give me the chance I would very much enjoy hearing your story.”  

* * *

Three months in she finally let him in on the life she’d led and he’d missed out on.  They talked well into the night, divulging secrets about themselves in the confines of Natasha’s chambers.  She told him of the Red Room while he explained to her his true heritage, showing her how his skin turned a light, icy blue at his will, causing the room to cool down as a result.  To his great surprise she smiled.

“You’re like a personal air conditioning unit,” she teased, her eyes more alight than he’d seen in some time.  

“One of the benefits of being a frost giant,” he reminded her.  “Though we don’t take well to warm temperatures.  The heat causes many of my kind to, ah, defrost.”  He chuckled at the word.  It sounded so ridiculous when he said it like that.  

She seemed to be thinking among the same lines, one eyebrow quirked up in amusement.  “You defrost?”

“I defrost.”

“You should show me sometime.”  

He rolled his eyes and leaned back to take a sip of his wine.  “Whatever tickles your fancy my darling.”

She was silent for a moment, the mirth gone from her eyes.  “Please don’t call me that.”

“I apologize.  I did not mean to offend you.”

“Just . . . leave it at that.  Please.”  

There was some silence between them, Loki stirring a finger in his wine to chill it further, smiling.  Natasha watched him with a hint of fascination, head tilted to the side as she watched the side of the goblet grow icy.  She offered him her goblet without a word and he did the same to hers.  She smiled for what felt like the first time and if she’d ever wanted to see what it was like for him to melt, well, he was about to.  

“You remind me of the Russian winters,” she murmured, taking his hand once he’d pulled it free of her goblet.  Her skin burnt his in the most pleasant of ways and he looked up at her in surprise.  “The first time it’d snow I’d always run outside--even if I was in the middle of my lessons--and run around in it.  Stick out my tongue to try and catch a snowflake.  I’d get in so much trouble.”  She gave a quiet laugh at the memory, turning his hand out to feel the callouses on his palm.  Each stroke of her fingers sent shivers up his spine, the heat disappearing soon after she was done tracing the lines on his palm.  “But there was always something so magical about it.  It just felt perfect, like the snow was, I don’t know, meant for me or something.”  She shook her head and smiled a little.  With her shield down he could see the flush creeping up her cheeks.  He snapped his fingers and a light powdering of snow fell down around them, landing on her hair, eyelashes, in her wine.  Her eyes widened in shock and awe, grinning as a snowflake hit her nose and melted on the spot.  He watched her with just as much glee, astounded by how much younger she looked when she smiled, how much more carefree.  The world had crafted her into the perfect killing machine, emotionless and perfect in every sense of the word, but right then?  He could see the child within her heart and he practically glowed at the sight.  It was beautiful.  

“You’re the only one I’ve shown this side to,” he murmured to her, waving his hand at his blue skin when the snow had stopped falling and her attention was firmly back on him.  Her head cocked to the side and she reached out.  Her hand was fire against his cheek and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the touch.  

“It’s beautiful.  I don’t know why you’d hide it.” She murmured.  

Well at least she thought so.  He’d been mortified she’d find him as monstrous as the others did, but she’d opened up to him so it was the least he could do to trust in her.  “The first time I met you, as Natalia, there was a young Jotun that had been abandoned.  He was picking off girls in the village as they came into the forest and devouring them, and I wondered at his fury, at his savagery.  I thought that surely this beast was the most foul thing I could ever imagine and vowed to do my best to keep them from attacking Midgard again.  To keep them from getting to you.  When I found out that I was a Jotun I had met you for a second time, and I thought that you would find me the same way.  A monster.”  He licked his lips and paused, noticing that she’d leaned a little to hear his story better.  He’d hardly realized that his voice had gone quiet.  “But you were the exact same.  Natascha was your name, and you were a Jotun like me.  A runt.  You helped me come to terms with who I was, and though I lost you in the process I . . . I never would have made it without your help.  Even if you can’t remember it I owe you my thanks for guiding me through the ordeal.”  

She tipped his face up, his attention having been focused on the rug where a frost was now forming out of his concentration.  The slightest of smiles played on her face as she watched his red gaze move from her eyes, to her lips, to her eyes again, and as though she could read his mind she pressed her lips to his forehead.  It wasn’t quite what he was looking for, but it was a start.  

“You’re welcome.  Now, make it snow again.”  

He laughed, obliging and watching as she laid back with her head on the rug, taking a sip of wine every so often and watching the snow as it lightly drifted down around her from unseen clouds in the room.  At the end of the night she allowed him to kiss the back of her hand before leaving, his disguise firmly back in place again before he took off for his own room.  

* * *

“Would you go riding with me?” They were four months in and Loki had yet to see Natasha use a horse to go anywhere since the first day she’d been brought to Asgard.  He’d wondered if she didn’t know how to ride, or rather if she didn’t like horses.  As though she was following this thought she turned away from him, burying her nose once more into her book.  

“I don’t think so.  Not today, Loki.”  She said, quiet as she turned another page in her book, apparently immersed.  He arched a brow and smiled.  Picking up her book from her hands he marked the page and closed it.  

“It is far too nice of a day--not too sunny and not too hot--to spend indoors reading.”

“Then let’s go for a walk, but give me back my book.”  She was up on her feet, clad today in a pair of leather trousers and a tunic.  She held out her hand but he shook his head, still smirking.  

“I am holding it hostage, Miss. Avenger, and the only way to get it back is to go riding with me.  I know the perfect spot for reading.”  

Her face was perfectly composed in a look of disbelief, her eyes boring into his.  “Don’t make me take it.”

“I’ll make it disappear before you could think to.”

“I don’t like horses.”  

Ah, there was the matter of it all.  He just smiled and offered her his hand.  “Then allow me to educate you on them.  I felt the same for some time.”  Mostly after he’d had Sleipnir; he’d been too skittish to go around any other horse but his son for a good few years after the incident.  There was a pause in which she searched his face, trying to find truth in his threat to vanish her book.  He’d done it before.  When Thor had refused to pay attention to him during dinner one evening Loki had vanished the plate without a second thought.  His brother had been so furious and taken by surprise (he’d been quite drunk so it wasn’t as though that was a surprise) that it had taken at least ten minutes for him to calm down and listen to what Loki had to say.  Afterwards his plate had been returned, unhurt and still steaming.  She grudgingly laid her hand in his, allowing him to bring her down to the stables.  He knew she was familiar with Sleipnir’s story, but she’d had yet to meet his son.  Most people he knew or cared about had yet to meet his son; the mount of Odin was not often allowed out unless to graze in the most private of paddocks or unless he was being ridden.  Being a parent, however, had its advantages.  

The stables were nearly empty when they got there, most of the horses out to pasture except for Sleipnir, who was sleeping peacefully in his stall.  He perked up the moment he heard Loki and Natasha growing closer, however, and after rising to his very considerable height he nickered as his hello and tossed hiis head back and forth, mane getting into his eyes.  Loki felt his heart swell as he stepped closer, a sugar cube materializing in his hand as he offered it to his son, who had just as much of a fondness for sugar as his Loki had.  Natasha waited back, staring at the huge horse with wide eyes, surprised at his immense size.  That was to say nothing for his eight legs.  

“Who is that?  Is that--?”

“My son, yes.”  Loki smiled and turned back to beckon her forward.  She did so on slow feet, extending one hand the way that Loki showed her how to.  A sugar cube appeared in her hand, and the horse was all too happy to gobble it up from her palm the way that he had from Loki’s.  Natasha let out a soft gasp in surprise.  

“He’s so warm,” she murmured, amazed as she began to pet his nose.  Loki nodded and jumped over the stable barrier keeping his son in there.  Nat followed suit shortly after, now able to pet his neck and the rest of his body.  While she did so Loki checked the horses’ shoes and got to work brushing him.  He hummed while he worked and the song soothed any nerves either Natasha or Sleipnir had about the other.  

“Is he your son?”

Loki looked up and over Sleipnir’s back to where she was standing, her gaze intent and curious as she stared.  He nodded.  

“Yes, this is Sleipnir.  Sleip, this is Natasha.”  

The horse turned so it could look at Nat and nudged her side with his nose.  Loki smiled.  Good, that meant he liked her.  Thankfully Natasha seemed to get the same idea, and she smiled as she went back to petting his nose and the space between his eyes.  

“You’re such a good horse aren’t you?” She cooed, and Sleipnir gave a quiet whinney.  They stayed down there for some time, leading him to pasture after he’d been brushed, and together they watched him go out to run around and eat.  

“I thought you said we were going to go for a ride.”  Nat looked sideways at him.  “Or was this just to get me to meet the rest of your family?” she teased.  Over the past few months she and Frigga had gotten rather close, her bond with Thor had grown, and Loki had even seen the Allfather crack a smile as Natasha told him of the many missions she and Thor had gone on.  His eldest son never talked about his adventures on Midgard, and apparently the Allfather had many of his own to tell of when he used to go and visit.  Loki had always kept his words to himself, not wanting to call the man a hypocrite for all the times he complained to Loki and Thor of their adventures to the mortal world.  

“I have a very large family.”

“So I’ve heard.  But you didn’t answer my question.”

“That depends on whether or not you’ve gotten over your fear of horses, Natasha.”

She spluttered at that, insisting she was not afraid of horses, or anything for that matter.  He walked over with her to the stables once more, to grab a pair of saddles and some reins, and once they prepped a pair, a docile silver for Natasha and Loki’s usual grey mare, they were off.  It wasn’t a long ride and they kept up a light, easy conversation the whole time.  Natasha asked about where her book went, since obviously Loki wasn’t holding it any more, and he told her it was already waiting for her at the clearing.  They were coming up to it, falling into an easy lull in the peaceful afternoon, the only sound being the whisper of the wind and the clop of their horses hooves on the grass.  

As Loki promised the clearing was perfect for reading: a small cluster of trees, apart from the forest that they were growing close to where most of the hunting went on, providing ample shade from the sun, and the grass was soft when they touched down.  Nat shucked off her riding boots and grinned to find her book, as Loki promised, underneath one of the trees.  

“I hate to admit it, Trickster, but you’re pretty good at this,” she murmured, watching as he tied up the horses to a nearby tree, their tethers offering them just enough space to walk around and eat.  Even though her complement was laced with a joking tone Loki took it to heart.

“I do try my hardest.”  Loki admitted with a grin.  “Impressing you is likely one of the most difficult tasks I’ve taken on yet.”

“You did try to rule the world.” She reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, laying on his back on the grass, threading his fingers through the soft blades as he closed his eyes.  “Oh please.  Ruling your people as a whole would be far simpler than attempting to impress you.”  

Silence.  Natasha cracked open the book, likely pondering what he had said. “I don’t know if I should be surprised or admit that that might be one of the nicest things someone has ever said to me.”

Loki snorted, and they passed the rest of the lazy afternoon there, the sorcerer indulging in the silence to work on his magic and the assassin finishing her book in a matter of hours.  She watched him manipulate a few leaves he’d pulled from the ground, eyes amazed as the objects shifted smoothly into stones, then small marble statues, and eventually joined to make one of the most lovely flowers Natasha would have ever seen.  Loki offered it to her, the white petals actually glowing, and she flushed a little.  Her fingers faltered when she moved to take it.  

“This won’t turn me into anything, will it?” She asked, looking very seriously at him.  “I don’t want to grow a second head or something so strange that they won’t take me back on Midg--Earth.”

Loki tried not to chuckle.  Caught her.  “Of course not.  I promise.”

When she didn’t take it he rolled his eyes and it stopped glowing.  “Do you trust me now?”

“No.”  She snorted and took the flower anyway.  Loki just smiled and the flower floated up and out of her hand, settling instead behind her ear.  Her gaze was skeptical, torn between a smirk and an incredulous stare.  “Wow.  You really are a romantic, aren’t you?”

“I can be.”  He admitted.  “Does that bother you?”

****

“Not anymore.”  She said this after a few minutes, her voice so soft he might not have heard her if it wasn’t for her close range.  That wasn’t the response he’d expected.  Very slowly he turned his head to look at her once again.  Her eyes were stuck to the ground, fingers pushing through the grass then pulling up every so often.  She didn’t turn to look at him until he’d started shifting closer, angling himself so when he finally sat up it was facing her and much closer than she’d let him sit in some time.  Her tongue darted out to lick her lips slowly, and Loki’s eyes followed the movement, forcing himself to remember how to breathe.  With baited breath he leaned even closer until they could have been breathing the same air, and just as slowly he presses his lips to hers.  She didn’t move away, closing in instead as he felt his heart stutter against his ribs.  Before he could process how they got there she was atop him, her lips fused against his and her hips rolling into his, making him gasp.  

“Loki.”  His name never sounded as sweet as when it was on her lips, making him moan in surprise as her lips left his, and he worried he’d done something wrong.  But no, she was simply dragging her lips and teeth down to his neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin where his throat and shoulder connected, making him gasp as his hips bucked against hers.  It was her turn to let out a soft moan at that point, rocking her pelvis into his.  One of his hands fisted in her hair to pull her up and away so he could kiss her once more, pouring his need and desire and--dare he say possibly love?  He would have to investigate that later--into the kiss.

They shucked their clothes not long after that, tossing them to the side in their haste to be bare against one another, press hot skin against colder skin, and only when she was atop him and he was fully seated inside her did they stop.  Breathe.  Their eyes connected and it was like nothing Loki had ever experienced.  Her hands found his and together they set a slow, almost punishing pace as she rode him, taking her sweet time to build him up.  He pulled one of his hands away to cup her breasts and sat up to pay homage to each one of them separately.  She murmured his name again, this time in between a whimper that sends shocks all the way down to his groin and made him spasm beneath her.  His hand traveled between her legs, rubbing her clit as she started to ride him faster.  

In what felt like no time she was crying out, hips bucking against his as she rode her first of what would be many orgasms of the evening.  He was determined to make each one memorable, and she was more flexible than he could have dreamed possible, even for a god, so that by the time they had finished she’d lost count of how many times she’d touched the heavens and he had collapsed down beside her, utterly spent.  Throughout their coupling his left hand had rarely released her right one, and even as they laid side by side their fingers were still intertwined.  He leaned over slowly to kiss her palm, wrist, and the crook of her elbow.  She shivered.  By the time night time came they made their way back up to the palace and Loki was reluctant to release the hand he’d been holding the whole time he’d walked her back to her room.  

“Good night,” she murmured quietly, her eyes flashing with fondness and something even deeper that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever find a word for, knowing only that he felt the same.  He mirrored her sentiment, lips quirked in a smile as she disappeared behind the door of her room.  

He did all that was in his power not to shout to his praises of the fates to Valhalla.  If that was what the mortals had in mind when they had created the idea of a “date,” well, they should have been given more credit for their achievements.

* * *

Barton had, apparently, demanded to be brought to Asgard when Natasha’s sixth month had come to an end, so when Thor disappeared and reappeared with the archer Loki couldn’t help but smirk.  The archer had thought he would find the same Natasha as had left Earth, and judging from the way the man was glaring at Loki he’d also been hoping to get a good shot at the sorcerer.  Not that it would ever happen; Loki was too familiar with the man’s style that he would be able to stop any shot he tried to make on him.  It was cute how he thought he could try, though.  Natasha stood by Loki’s side, dressed in a gown of Asgard Frigga had had fashioned for her personally; it was mostly black and red, a modest cut, with metal working around the chest and torso.  A black widow sigil had been worked into the center at Loki’s recommendation, and Natasha’s eyes had gone wide when she’d seen it, fingering the fabric with amazement.  

“You know I hate dresses,” she had told Loki, the sorcerer having brought her to pick it up.  “But this . . . this is beautiful.”  She was even smiling as she ran her fingertips over the sigil.  “Did Frigga do this part, too?”

“No, I did.”  Loki admitted to her.  “I thought it would help to remind you that just because you are here does not make you any less of a warrior than you are on Midgard.”

Her smile made it all worth while, and she reached over to punch him gently on the shoulder.  He’d quickly learned that that was her preferred method of showing affection.  “Careful, trickster.  You’re beginning to understand some of the intrigue that is the Black Widow.”  She teased him.  “I might have to kill you if you learn all my secrets.”

He’d laughed it off while secretly hoping that she hadn’t been serious.  

Now Barton was giving it the same, wide stare that Natasha had graced it with, except the first always-eloquent words out of his mouth were: “Since when did you start wearing dresses outside of missions?”

Loki had to hand it to him: at least that made his own opening line to Natasha sound much better by comparison.

Nat rolled her eyes and stepped forward.  “It’s lovely, and it was made for me, so shut your mouth.”  After making sure he was sufficiently cowed she moved towards Thor.  The thunderer was smiling, amused as always by the pair of them, and she pulled him into her arms for a quick hug, murmuring her thanks in his ear.  “Don’t know if I would’ve made it through this without you.  And your mother.  Tell her thank you for me, too?”

“Of course my lady,” Thor assured her, hugging her back just as tightly, not worried in the slightest any more about harming her.  She was a goddess, or at least as close to one as she could get, and her time spent on Asgard had only helped solidify her newfound strength.  Loki smiled to watch the two, also glad for Thor’s help.  He’d been doing his best to make sure Natasha had been comfortable while staying in the palace, and once she was familiar with the way things had been run, and had had that which she was unfamiliar with explained, she’d been much easier to speak with.  Thor had proved himself a boon where Loki had considered him only a hinderance.  He would have to reevaluate that.  Now Natasha had turned to Loki, her eyes a muddled heap of emotions ranging from confusion to relief to sorrow?  Was she actually sad to leave?  It was fleeting whatever it was, and she crossed back over to pull him into a hug as well.  

“Thank you for explaining it to me, darling.”  She murmured in his ear, her lips ghosting over his cheek.  He felt himself grin, the pet name making him shiver.  Behind Natasha the archer tensed up, glowering at the pair, obviously not a fan of the smile that Loki had.  Well, to hell with it; if he was going to make the archer mad then he might as well go all in.  When Natasha pulled away Loki caught the side of her face and pulled her back, this time pressing his lips to hers.  

She didn’t fight him.

She kissed him back.

He didn’t know which was the greater pleasure: her soft kiss and the secretive smile she was left with when they parted or the absolute look of fury and disbelief on Clint Barton’s face.  He had six months to savor each, six months for his memories to tide them over.  As he watched them shoot through the Bifrost, Barton giving him one more glare before he disappeared, he thought that perhaps--just maybe--he could live with that.

 


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: here there be tears. And feels.   
> Alright, seeing as I've pretty much messed with nearly everything canon I decided to bite the bullet and eff up a little more. This one messes with the events of the Civil War plot line just a touch.   
> This is unfortunately my last update for this story--thank you all so, so much for reading! It has been such an experience to write this, really, and it's my first fic I've /actually/ finished. Though it's bittersweet as all get out I'm really pleased with how it turned out . . . well, as pleased as I can be. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you everyone for having stuck by me through all the crazy!

Natasha looked over at the body on the bed beside her.  She’d not moved from her spot at his side since he’d been put here, and that had only been done after they’d determined there was nothing more that could be done.  That was nearly three days ago.  Tony had been nice enough to bring her water and food, though he knew better than to talk to her.  He was beating himself up the same way that she was.  As he should have.  If he hadn’t been such a close-minded pig, hadn’t pitted the two sides against one another.  

Steve wouldn’t be dead.

Clint wouldn’t be dead.  

She would still have a best friend and a partner.  

She took a shuddering breath though she didn’t cry.  It wasn’t physically possible for her to cry any more, she thought, certain that by then her tear ducts had worn themselves completely out.  She could only hope at least.  Tony stopped at the door and from where she sat beside Clint she could hear the man she once considered a genius swallow, then clear his throat.  

“You can’t stay in here for the rest of your life, y’know. It’s . . . it isn’t going to do anything.  Phil already tried.”

“Shut up.”  She wouldn’t stop the acid from leaking into her voice even if she could.  What the hell did he know about not doing anything?  Where was he to do something when Clint had screamed at him until the archer was blue in the face, where was he when Steve had told Tony to stand down?  Why wasn’t he doing anything about the fact that they were all dying like flies around them, or else leaving?  Bruce had left not long after the Captain had died, afraid that the Act--that stupid, stupid Act--would allow others to start tracking him down once they knew his name.  Afraid that Tony would make him into something he never wanted to be.  He hadn’t told his lab partner that he was leaving.  The billionaire hadn’t left his room for days after that, unable to come to terms with the fact that, along with his boyfriend his best friend had left him.  

The day he’d come out again had been the day that Clint had died.  

One of her hands reached out to touch his, the skin cold against her hand.  She’d attacked anyone that tried to move the body, drawing strength from some power source deep within her she didn’t know she had, and they’d left her alone since then.  Alone with only the dead for company.  She took a shuddering breath as she squeezed Barton’s fingers.  Willed him to squeeze back, to open his stupid eyes and call her a baby for crying over him.  To shake off the shot through the chest that had caused him to fall backwards, blood pooling around him.  His eyes had gone blank not moments afterwards, and his hand had been slack and devoid of any strength when she’d picked it up.  

And the whole time Tony Stark just stared at the dead body, the repulsor still pointed at where Clint had stood.  

Natasha hadn’t screamed so hard since she was in the Red Room and had been made to watch her best friend get killed in front of her eyes, had to watch as the boy she’d grown up with had his throat slit and then had to go bury his body.  

“Don’t get so attached.”  They had told her after giving her a black eye for her weakness.  “You are not expendable, everyone else is.”

Was that why she still lived?  Loki wouldn’t let her die, he’d said that much to her, but even without his help all others around her dropped.  Natasha endured.  She always wormed her way out of the tricky situations, clawed her way to safety.  Stood aside as she watched her best friend, her partner, get shot through the chest, rooted to the spot by fear and shock and no no no he couldn’t have been dead!

Tears sprang to her eyes, surprising her and stealing her breath as her small body shook.  She folded in on herself, pressing Barton’s palm to her cheek as she cried into it and pulled her knees up to her chin.  Tony had taken his leave some time ago she guessed, too trapped in her own brain to give much stock to whether or not he’d said anything before he left.  

* * *

Natasha hadn’t known what to believe when she saw Tony carrying Steve’s limp body into the tower, Cap’s shield strapped to Tony’s back, his chipped armor clanking as he walked in.  He didn’t say a word to any of them, even as Bucky demanded to know what the hell had happened, attempting to get in Stark’s way so he could get some answers.  Though Bucky was nearly as much of a super soldier as Steve had been the punch to the stomach with the suit was enough to make him double over and land on his knees.  Stark walked right around him and closed the door behind him.  Nat and Clint had shared a look before the pair moved towards the Winter Soldier to help him up to his feet.  

“He had something to do with it,” Bucky growled, his eyes turning to daggers as he stared at the door.  His metal hand had balled into a fist and he seemed about ready to beat his way through the door to get some answers.  Natasha’s hand on his shoulder was about the only thing to stop him.  

“Ask around to see if anyone else knows what’s going on,” she murmured.  “We’ll see if we can’t wait till he comes out himself.”

But Tony didn’t come out.  They heard sobbing, the shattering of glass as it seemed to be thrown against the wall, and agonized screaming but still the man didn’t resurface.  Jarvis wouldn’t let them in, either, or tell them what was going on.  It took three days for them to realize that Steve, Captain America, had  been killed.  

“It wasn’t worth it.”  They had heard Tony scream.  “You hear me, Cap?  It wasn’t fucking worth it!  Are you happy you son of a bitch?”  

Nat had hardly been able to believe it when Bucky had told her the news, the Soldier shaking with barely suppressed rage.  At her side Clint seemed to be thinking the same thing, cursing under his breath as he stared over at Tony’s door.  The billionaire had gone silent for some time, either passed out or asleep or just too low to say anything.  None of them minded, though they couldn’t deny the silence was more unnerving than the screaming.  

“What do we do?” Natasha murmured, looking from Clint to Bucky.  The latter growled deep in his throat.

“Break down his door and choke the bastard out?” He suggested, hands fisting as he seemed to contemplate the joy of driving his fist through Stark’s skull.  Natasha shook her head.  No.  Tony Stark was the prince of violence, the king of weapons and fighting fire with fire.  Any attack they could possibly present, even the three spies against the one Iron Man, would have an unfortunate end for them.

And if she’d already lost Steve then she didn’t want to lose another one.  

With slow footsteps she stepped closer to the door and reached out a hand to knock lightly.  Silence answered her, then: “What the hell do you want?”

It came from closer than she’d expected, giving her hope she was careful to keep from blossoming too quickly.  “I want to see Steve.  I need to pay my respects.  We all do.  You can’t keep him there with you, Tony, no matter how badly you want to.”

More silence followed her words. Behind her Hawkeye muttered something under his breath about trying to break into the room via air ducts again but it wasn’t necessary.  It only took a moment more before the door opened.  Tony looked terrible.  He’d not changed out of his Iron Man suit and though he carried Steve’s body his own was trembling beneath its weight.  Both physical and emotional.  There were deep circles under his eyes, which were, well, dead when they turned to Natasha.  His breath smelled of brandy, scotch, and whiskey.  Likely he’d run out in the time spent in isolation and had to resort to something other than his beloved scotch.  

“Where do you want him?” He asked, voice as empty as his eyes, and Natasha led him over to the couch.  They’d just burn it afterwards, and though the Captain deserved so much more than this it would have to do.  Bucky and Clint followed, almost standing guard over Natasha.  The red head had dropped a hand onto Tony’s metal shoulder.  He turned once the weight registered.  

“Get some sleep.  We’ll take care of him,” she promised him.  Tony nodded, still mute, and with solemn thuds he made his way back to his room and once more shut the door.  

They hadn’t seen him for some time, not even at Steve’s funeral, which was held within the week.  Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, they’d all been there though the latter had taken off not long afterwards, heading back to India or Indonesia or some other country that could use his expertise as a doctor.  No one said a thing but Natasha could tell that he felt somewhat responsible.  He was a doctor, after all, and he saw himself as that first and foremost.  To have let a teammate die as he felt he had, well, it was simply inexcusable in his mind.  It hadn’t mattered that Natasha had taken his hands and squeezed them, pleaded for him to stay.  She didn’t think she would be able to handle all this crazy on her own, and Tony needed Bruce.  

“He needed Steve too, and look at what happened.  I’d rather leave with what few . . . positive memories of Tony I have left.  I don’t want them getting clouded over because I decide to put my trust in him once again and he betrays it the same way.”

Natasha had swallowed back her retorts.  He’d had a very valid point and there was nothing more to argue.  With a pitying look the doctor pressed his lips to the top of Natasha’s forehead.  “You hang in there.  How many more months until you’re back to Asgard?”

“Three.” She murmured.  

“Good.  You get away from this mess,” he murmured.  “It’s not good for you to be in a place of such negativity.  You have enough going on in your head; you don’t need to add anymore to it.”

“I can’t leave Clint.”  She murmured, looking up into Bruce’s warm eyes.  They were crinkled in the corners, courtesy of his concern, and he looked much older than he actually was.  He patted her on the shoulder and turned to say his goodbyes to the others before disappearing out of Natasha’s life.  

Tony was distraught to find that his best friend had left him, too, and by the time they made it back to the tower he’d already ripped the main floors to shreds, whether with the repulsors of his suit or with his bare hands.  Natasha retreated to her room, packed a bag, and left to insist to Clint that they needed to leave, Bucky too if he wanted.  

* * *

Natasha pulled herself out of her thoughts when the door opened.  Thor stood in the doorway, his face weary as he stared at the body in front of Natasha.  When she didn’t comment on his presence he chanced a few steps forward, stopping only when he stood behind her.  “I heard the news and came as quickly as I was able,” he told her after wetting his lips.  She’d turned to face him, her hand still on Clint’s, and Thor bent to kiss her on her forehead.  “I am so sorry for your loss, my lady.  Clint Barton was a fierce companion and a good man.  I am sorry to hear that Tony is not himself any more.”

Natasha nodded, her mind numb from all the crying as she tried to piece together what to say next.  When nothing came Thor seemed to understand.  His smile was sad as he pulled up a chair beside her.  His blue eyes focused on Barton’s hand, still in Natasha’s, and he sighed quietly.  “I am surprised you have not yet asked.”

She didn’t need him to clarify what he was talking about; she’d played it out in her head a dozen or so times, each with a different response.  None of which she liked.  

“Is it possible, Thor?”  She asked, her eyes finally meeting his.  

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  It’d gotten so long since she’d last seen it, she noticed, wondering if he’d let her give him a haircut.  Clint always--.  Her heart gave a harsh pang against her chest and she winced at the pain.  

“Hela is a difficult woman to bargain with.  The price that even Loki had to pay was rather steep, and she is his daughter.  She asked for a companion and he had to bargain with the Allfather to allow her to take one of the Aesir she pined over.  While that may not seem difficult the ritual he had to perform in order to make it stick was the difficult part.  That massacre that happened in Eastern Europe, that I believe Ivan Petrovich and the other founders of the Red Room were caught in?  That was Loki.”

Natasha winced.  She’d been relieved at the news that her old captors had died but the thousands of lives that had gone with them . . . well, it was no wonder they had no clue who had done it.  “Why?”

“Hela is the goddess of the dead.  She requires payment.”  

She sounded like a bitch, but Natasha kept that to herself.  “Even if I could find something she would want, when he came back would he be . . . like me?”

“This is not a conversation that I--.”

“Thor.  Please tell me.”  

The blond man sighed and dropped his head, seeming to contemplate what he should tell her.  Natasha waited, patient, her breath baited.  

“He would not be the Clint that you know and care for.  He would be someone new.  He would have no recollection of his time with the Avengers, or working for Shield.  It would be a clean slate start, but unless you intend on bringing him back into this madness that our company has dissolved into I would not advise disturbing his soul’s peace.”  

Whatever she had been expecting it certainly was not that.  She nodded, letting out the air that threatened to expand her lungs to the brink of bursting and with careful, slow hands she moved Clint’s arm back to its resting place at his side.  

“I think it is time we allow them to take care of his body.”

Natasha swallowed hard and looked at the agent lying motionless on the bed.  Her best friend, her confidant.  The one who had saved her life and had passed before she could return the favor.  He looked almost peaceful and it killed her looking at him like that, sleeping.  He’d never grouse again about how he needed ten hours a night to feel complete, or how exhausted he was from one of their missions.  

Thor was right.  She had no right to disturb that.  

“You’re right, Thor.  One more thing?”

“Anything my lady.”

“Can you get Loki here in a week?  I need to talk to him.”

“Of course.”

* * *

That night, as she had every night since his death, Natasha dreamt of Clint.  He was standing in front of her, his voice raised as he argued with Tony.  The archer was telling the bleary-eyed man in front of him to stop the destruction he’d already caused, to recall the people he’d sent to try and collect Bruce, and Tony growled as he took a couple of steps closer.  

“Don’t tell me how to run this damn organization, Barton.” He snarled, one metal finger pointing into Barton’s chest hard enough that the Barton would have winced if not for his excellent pain tolerance.  

“Then stop trying to kill us all!  You have no idea what you’re doing, Tony--you’ve gone crazy!  First Steve and now you’re trying to force Bruce back?  You sent those men to their death trying to collect him!”

“He has to come back--I need him!”  Tony shouted.  His suit, chipped and scratched and seeming to barely still be held together, seemed to shift on his body, as if getting ready for a fight.  Natasha put a hand to Clint’s shoulder, tried to pull him back.  Her hand went right through his shoulder as though she was nothing more than a ghost, a phantom unable to do more than watch the terror of the events unfold before her eyes.  No, she wouldn’t do it again.  She screamed, crying for Barton to stop what he was doing, at Tony to see sense.  The genius billionaire playboy philanthropist did nothing of the sort, his hand rising once again.  Clint reached out to put a hand to the man’s arm to stop him before the other could so much as do anything, warning Stark not to mess with him.  

“You’ve put too many lives in danger as it is.  Stop it, Tony.”

There was a quick hum and a blast as the repulsor blew a hole through Clint’s upper torso.  He hardly had time to do anything else, his bright eyes going suddenly dark as his body fell backwards, pouring blood.  There was nothing to be done about the wide hole in his chest and though Natasha knelt by his body and screamed and screamed and screamed no noise managed to get through.  Tony just stared on, his eyes dark as pitch, before turning and leaving the two agents, one sobbing and one bleeding, on the floor.  

* * *

The funeral was small, private, and devoid of Tony.  Clint never wanted a large gathering, just wanted to be buried in the suit and tie that Phil had always loved with his bow in his hands and his arrows beside him.  He’d gotten his wish, Natasha and Phil had both seen to that, and while Natasha felt her eyes leaking throughout the whole service Phil at her side was stoic.  She could never fully comprehend his strength, and when she squeezed his hand as they lowered Barton into the ground Phil squeezed back, his shuddering breath the only indicator that the finality of Clint’s death had finally sunk in.  Natasha couldn’t blame him.  Too often she expected him to stride down the hall into the living room or kitchen, throw his feet up on the counter like he knew they all hated and demand to know what was for dinner, the smile on his lips proof that he was just happy to be there.  

Natasha couldn’t bear to go to the reception afterwards, stealing a bottle of vodka that had been provided and instead heading up to her own room.  She would commemorate Barton’s passing in private, as she always had.  Except her room wasn’t empty when she got there.  Since they’d moved Barton’s body she’d been staying in an apartment of her own, one she’d had on stand-by for years just in case things got as unbearable with the group as they’d just gotten, and when the lock slid into the keyhole it was only to find that the door was already unlocked.  Instincts on high alert she shifted the bottle of vodka to her left hand and fingered the hilt of one of the few knives she always kept with her.  

Loki was waiting on her couch, turning to face her when the door opened.  Natasha nearly dropped the vodka in relief.  Finally.  It’d only taken him a week to get here.  The trickster smiled to see her so happy to see him for once.  Usually she marked their visits with a small huff and followed him up to his home.  Her home for half of a year, she supposed.  

“I was told you needed to speak with me,” Loki said when Natasha closed and locked the door behind her.  His eyes moved to the bottle of vodka in her hands and he frowned.  “I heard the news about Barton and I am sorry for your loss.”

She waved it away, swallowing hard.  There was no way she was ready to start talking about that, or Steve’s death.  It should’ve never happened to her team to begin with, and yet there they were.  There was more silence between the two as Natasha kicked off her shoes, removed her jacket, and moved to sit in one of the chairs opposite the frost giant.  He respected her silence, not pressing the subject or saying a word, not even when she pulled the cap off of the vodka bottle and took a deep, deep drink.  

“I want to go home.”  She said once she was half a bottle in.  It hadn’t taken long, and she’d been trying to think of how to word it properly while she bided her time.  

Loki’s expression was that of confusion.  “Back to Russia?  I hardly think you require my help with that move, unless you wish me to make you untraceable so that Stark cannot find you.”

Natasha shook her head.  “No.  Not Russia.  I want to go home, Loki.  To Asgard.”  It was all she had left in the end, the only place she could be with some semblance of peace, and she had nothing else to stay here for.  Bucky was already talking of taking up Steve’s mantle, trying to bring some balance back to the team, but without Barton and without Steve, well, Natasha couldn’t stand the idea of going back to work.  Loki didn’t press her reasoning.  He didn’t have to.  One look and he could all but read her mind, and he felt his heart ache for her and what she had gone through.  He may not have liked the bond that she and Barton shared but he knew her pain.  After all, hadn’t he gone through something similar when he’d lost her each time?  

He’d scooted to the edge of the couch, one hand extended to take hers.  She didn’t even flinch at his hand, instead looking down at where he held her.  

“You are certain?  How long would you like to be gone?”

“I don’t want to come back.”  What was there to come back to?  At least on Asgard she would have her freedom, she would have a place to stay, people to meet with and . . . she would have Loki.  She turned her gaze up to meet his and gave him the first smile she’d shown in what she seemed like decades.  It was weak, coming apart at the edges, but it was there.  “Loki, take me away please?”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.  

****

End.

 


End file.
